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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28897773">GALAXY GUARDS</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/PetLeopard56/pseuds/PetLeopard56'>PetLeopard56</a>, <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Slasherfem/pseuds/Slasherfem'>Slasherfem</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Boston Legal</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Gen, Guest appearances by various Star Trek characters, Star Trek References</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 09:54:42</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>52,597</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28897773</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/PetLeopard56/pseuds/PetLeopard56, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Slasherfem/pseuds/Slasherfem</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Denny Crane’s old college friend is defending a fanfic writer accused of copyright infringement and plagiarism, because a novel he published is too similar to Unimount Studio’s popular sci-fi series Galaxy Guards, which was cancelled twenty-one years ago.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Denny Crane &amp; Alan Shore</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>GALAXY GUARDS</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>For the last time, folks, we’re not in this for profit! Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, and we’re the biggest flatterers in fandom. So, keep your lawyers, guns and money and let’s get on with life!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>PART ONE:</p><p>One fine morning in August 2008, a tall, dark, skinny man in his 70’s came into the lobby of Crane, Poole and Schmidt and asked for Denny Crane. “Who shall I say is calling?” asked the receptionist.</p><p>“Samuel Kimmel,” he replied, “an old law school buddy.” The woman picked up the phone and dialed Denny’s extension. </p><p>At that moment, Paul Lewiston came out of his office followed by Alan Shore. Paul was rebuking the younger man for his escapades with the female clients. “Really, Alan, we have a reasonable standard of ethics at the firm of Crane, Poole, and Schmidt. Would it be too much to ask that you try to conform to those standards?”</p><p>When the tall man heard his voice, he looked up, smiled, and said, “Paul? Is that you?”</p><p>Paul stopped and stared at him so hard his blue eyes were practically protruding behind his spectacles. “Oh no!” he groaned. “It can’t be!” </p><p>Alan looked confused.  “Paul, what’s wrong?  You’re as pale as a ghost.”</p><p>Paul started to answer, then just shook his head. “You’ll find out soon enough,” he said ominously.</p><p>Just then, Denny Crane came running out into the lobby wearing only half a suit and his boxer shorts, yelling “Sam!”</p><p>“Denny!” yelled Sam. They ran into each other’s arms and hugged like a couple of love-starved bears, knocking down a potted plant, a vase from the receptionist’s desk, a picture from the wall and a young secretary carrying a pile of freshly copied documents in the process. They all fell to the floor in one big mess, covered with papers still warm from the copier. </p><p>Alan turned to Paul and said, “Yes, I see there’s going to be a problem here.”</p><p>PART TWO:</p><p>A tall, striking blonde woman came out of Denny’s office, looking very much annoyed. Inside, Denny was putting his pants on as an amazed Sam raised an eyebrow and asked, “Number Seven, Denny?”</p><p>Denny said, “Naw, too tall. I like ‘em shorter. So, what brings you to Boston, Sam? Last I heard you were in sunny California working that child custody case for Miss Cue Ball.”</p><p>“Her hair did grow back, Denny. Unfortunately, we were unable to prove that her ex put Nair in her shampoo, so she lost custody of the kids. But the good news is, she doesn’t have to pay him alimony.” </p><p>“How is he going to support himself and those kids on child support?”</p><p>“He’ll have to go back to singing.”</p><p>“Oh, she’ll have those kids back by Christmas.”</p><p>Sam sighed. “Unfortunately, this is not completely a social call. I need your help, Denny. I need the resources of Crane, Poole and Schmidt.”</p><p>Denny patted him on the back reassuringly. “My crew is your crew, old friend.”</p><p>Sam smiled. “Thank you. You always were there to help when we were studying together at Harvard.”</p><p>Denny laughed. “Yeah, you helped me with the exams and I helped you with the ladies. How is Christine, by the way?”</p><p>“Doing fine,” Sam responded. “Unfortunately, the firm picked a bad time to send me here, since the grandchildren are visiting.”</p><p>Denny shook his head. “Never had time for children, let along grandchildren. Don’t know how you do it, Sam.”</p><p>Sam sat down and looked up at him thoughtfully. “Actually, this young man whom I’m here to defend does remind me of my oldest grandson. Which brings me to why I’m here. I am representing this young man, Patrick Thomason, who is being sued by Unimount Studios. Are you familiar with the 80’s sci-fi TV series <em>Galaxy Guards</em>?” </p><p>Denny shook his head dismissively. “I don’t watch science fiction. I have a life. I can’t picture these techno geeks and nerds going to conventions, dressing up in silly costumes, standing on line to get an autograph from some washed-up actor.  I mean, the whole idea is way out there!” He twirled one finger at his temple in the familiar gesture connoting insanity. </p><p>“Denny,” said Sam patiently, “my oldest grandson happens to be a big <em>Galaxy Guards</em> fan. In fact, he’s the one who urged me to take this case.”</p><p>“Oops!” Denny said sheepishly. “I guess there’s one of those in every family.  Oh well, maybe he’ll grow out of it.”</p><p>Sam sighed. “Be that as it may, this young man is a very talented writer. He wrote a novel entitled <em>Space Lore</em>, which was released by Parallax Publishers. It became a breakaway hit and made a ton of money. Within a month, this young college student got endorsements, TV spots, movie offers, the whole nine yards. Anyway, a lawyer from Unimount Studios is suing him, claiming that the plotline for the book is very similar to the <em>Galaxy Guards </em>series, which was cancelled back in 1987 after seven seasons. Unimount is suing for copyright infringement. My firm represents Parallax Publishers, whose central office is located in San Francisco, and I was selected to handle the case due to my familiarity with the venue.”</p><p>Denny lit a cigar, offered one to his friend and shook his head. “That’s the trouble with this country, Sam. Everybody wants a piece of the action. But we’ve handled the biggest and the baddest. Your little problem with Unimount will be blown away by the mighty winds of Crane, Poole and Schmidt.” Denny flicked his ash in a nearby ashtray. </p><p>Sam shook his head and wrinkled his brow worriedly. “The thing that really worries me is the lawyer that Unimount hired to represent them. She has quite a reputation. She’s brought down many large corporations.”</p><p>Denny laughed. “You know what they say. Size doesn’t matter.  Bring her on! There was never a woman that Denny Crane couldn’t handle!”</p><p>Sam toyed with his cigar before looking at Denny directly.   “Opposing council is Bethany Horowitz.”</p><p>Denny turned pale. He grabbed the left side of his chest and gasped. “I think I’m going to be sick!”  He collapsed on the couch.</p><p>Sam ran over to his friend. “Denny, are you okay?” Denny didn’t answer, but breathed in short gasps. “Don’t worry, Denny, I know what to do.” Sam removed his friend’s shoes and put his feet up on the couch. He grabbed a throw pillow and put it under Denny’s head, loosened his collar and tie, then unbuttoned Denny’s shirt, exposing half of his upper chest. “Everything will be okay, old friend. You know why?”  Denny looked questioningly at him. Sam leaned closer and whispered in Denny’s ear. “Because you’re Denny Crane. Denny Crane. Denny Crane.”  Denny closed his eyes and let out a long sigh of pleasure.</p><p>“Ahem.” A third person had entered the room quietly. Both men looked up, startled, as the tall shadow of Alan Shore fell over them.  “I do hope that I wasn’t interrupting anything, gentlemen.”</p><p>PART THREE:</p><p>A couple of hours later, Denny, Alan, Sam, Shirley and Paul were sitting in the main conference room. Alan, Denny, and Sam were all talking at the same time. Neither of the others could understand what they were saying. Paul finally hammered on the table with his fist and yelled, “Quiet! We’re not going to get anywhere if you all talk at the same time! Alan, you go first.”</p><p>Alan took a deep breath, let out a sigh, then said: “I was just minding my own business when I remembered that I left my briefs in Denny’s office.” Everyone stared at him curiously. He rolled his eyes at the ceiling and said, “Oh, for Pete’s sake! I mean the legal documents for <em>Smith vs. Harrison</em> that Denny and I were working on yesterday. You people have such dirty minds!”</p><p>Denny shook a fat finger at Alan. “You, young man, should be ashamed of yourself! First you enter my office without knocking, and then you misconstrue an innocent moment between two good friends.”</p><p>“Denny, you were half undressed!” Alan said indignantly. </p><p>“I was half undressed when I ran out to meet him!” Denny retorted. “I was completely dressed when he laid me down on the couch.”</p><p>“Then why were you showing more cleavage than Clark Gable in <em>Gone With the Wind</em>?” Alan demanded.</p><p>Sam cleared his throat loudly. “I believe I can answer that with some degree of logic. We were discussing the case that I wished Denny to assist me on, and when I mentioned the name of the plaintiff’s attorney, Denny practically had a heart attack. I was trying to revive him.” </p><p>“With the kiss of life?” Alan sneered. Denny, Sam, and Alan all began yelling at each other again.   </p><p>Shirley got up, tapped on the table and said, “Hold it, hold it! There’s one way we can settle this whole mess. Mr. Kimmel, what is the name of the plaintiff’s attorney in your case?” </p><p>“Bethany Horowitz,” Sam replied.  Everybody let out a collective sigh at the mention of Denny’s ex. Sam wrinkled his brow curiously, as Shirley tried to put things in perspective. </p><p>“Mr. Kimmel, let’s just say that Denny and Ms. Horowitz have a history together.”</p><p>Sam turned red and said, “Oh, I’m so sorry! I really didn’t know.  I hope this won’t create a conflict of interest.”</p><p>Paul shook his head slowly and replied, “Actually, it wouldn’t.  This type of case is good for our firm. Shirley and I have reviewed the facts and we are sympathetic to your client’s case.  This type of thing with private corporations bullying their way into the lives of penniless artists has been going on for far too long. It’s time that we step in and bring them down.”</p><p>“He’s not so penniless now,” Denny snorted. </p><p>“He could be again, and very soon,” said Shirley, “if Unimount Studios has its way. As long as he was only a penniless, unknown fanfic writer paying tribute to his favorite series, they were willing to ignore him. There are hundreds of thousands of people like him, writing the further adventures of their favorite sci-fi heroes years after the final episode has run. The Constitution protects their freedom of speech and expression.”</p><p>Alan continued Shirley’s thought. “However, once they begin to earn a profit from their creativity, that’s when the studio starts to pay attention. The last thing Unimount or any major studio wants is for someone to be milking their cash cow without paying them their share.”</p><p>Denny chimed in, “I say we bring down the bastards, damn it!  And anybody who works for them. Though come to think of it, it would be pretty hard to bring Bethany down any further than she already is.” </p><p>“She already lowered herself further by dating you!” Shirley rejoined. Everyone else laughed while Denny pouted. </p><p>Paul rubbed his hands together and said, “Okay, then, we’re going to have Alan, Sam, and-” he sighed. “Denny go to visit the defendant. We’re going to gather the facts, then proceed from there. Shirley and I will research legal precedence while you’re all interviewing the client.”</p><p>Everybody got up and filed out of the conference room.  Denny and Alan were the last to leave. As Denny was leaving, Alan took him by the arm and said reproachfully, “Denny, how could you?  With that man, in your office?”</p><p>Denny just looked at him and shrugged his shoulders. “It was just one of those things, Alan. Sam and I have a history too, long before I ever met you.” </p><p>Alan drew himself up, looked Denny in the eye and said defiantly, “This isn’t over yet, Denny.” </p><p>At that moment, Sam poked his head back into the conference room to see what had become of Denny. Hearing the tail end of Alan’s remark, he raised one eyebrow and murmured, “Indeed?”</p><p>Alan simply turned around and walked out, pretending to ignore Sam but “accidentally” bumping into him on the way out. Sam only chuckled and shook his head at the younger man. He put his arm around Denny and they both left the room. </p><p>PART FOUR: </p><p>About 4:00 p.m., the three lawyers emerged from their limousine in one of the poorer parts of South Boston. Denny commented, “You would think that with all the money he’s made from his book, Mr. Sci-Fi Geek would be living in a better part of Boston by now.”<br/><br/>Sam turned to Denny and responded, “Don’t you see, Denny, everything that he has now means nothing? He can’t spend a penny of his own money until this case is settled. He can’t even move his mother out of this wretched housing project into the nice new house he promised her. As soon as he signed the contract with Parallax Publishers, Unimount got wind of it and petitioned the court to put a hold on all his assets.”</p><p>Denny shook his head. “Damn, that’s a real bummer. What’s the use of becoming rich and famous if you can’t spend your own money? That’s the American way!”</p><p>Alan turned to him and said, “Denny, Sam does have a point. This is more about principal and dignity than it is about money.”</p><p>As they spoke, they entered the project building and pressed the button for the elevator. Denny muttered, “I sure hope the elevator doesn’t smell like piss!” </p><p>When they got off the elevator on the thirteenth floor, right behind a Mohawked white man with a boom box holding hands with a Hispanic girl half his age, who looked too young to be the mother of the baby she was carrying, even though it was calling her “Mami”, Alan said, “I hate to see something like that. It really bothers me.”</p><p>Denny said, “Damn right! A pretty thing like that shouldn’t be going out with Mr. Mohawk Head there.”</p><p>Sam sighed. “Denny, please try to restrain yourself. We’re approaching our client’s apartment.” He led the way to apartment 13M and pressed the bell, which wasn’t working, so he knocked. </p><p>A peephole opened and a weak, elderly female voice was heard asking, “Who is it?”</p><p>Sam answered, “Mrs. Thomason, it’s Sam Kimmel, your son’s lawyer.”</p><p>“Just a minute!” she called out. She began opening all the locks on the door, which took quite a while. Sam waited patiently while Alan leaned against the opposite wall and Denny looked nervously around, as if he expected to be mugged any moment. </p><p>Finally, the door opened, revealing a woman in her 70’s wearing a red and blue housecoat with worn-out pink slippers, leaning on an ancient walker, with wide-rimmed eyeglasses and a hearing aid in each ear. “Come in, Mr. Kimmel,” she welcomed Sam in a tremulous voice. “I’m sorry the place is in such a mess. We were supposed to be moving, you know.” </p><p>“Yes, I know, Mrs. Thomason. I’m afraid you’ll have to wait a bit longer to see the nice new house that your son bought you.”</p><p>“I’ve already seen it. I’d just like to be living in it,” the old woman said wistfully. After Sam had introduced his colleagues, she led the way down a dimly lit hallway with faded beige carpeting. The living room was filled with boxes and sheeted furniture, and there were white rectangles on the walls where pictures formerly hung. “I wish I could offer you gentlemen something, but I’m down to my last teabag and Paddy drank the last of the coffee at breakfast. He was supposed to go to the store for me, but he started writing another book on his computer and now I can’t tear him away from it.” </p><p>“Why don’t you call for takeout, Mrs. Thomason?” Alan suggested.  “Order whatever you’d like for dinner, I’ll gladly pay for the delivery.”</p><p>“I’m afraid they disconnected the phone five weeks ago. We couldn’t pay the bill.”</p><p>“But that’s outrageous!” Alan declared. He took out his cell phone, and after asking Mrs. Thomason the number of her favorite Chinese restaurant, ordered dinner for everyone.</p><p>The mention of food brought Paddy out of his room. “Did I hear someone talking about Chinese?” the young author asked eagerly, poking his head out from his room.</p><p>“No, we were talking about Chinese food, not women,” Denny said regretfully. </p><p>The skinny young man slowly emerged from his room, scratching his head, which bore a resemblance to a Chia plant except that it was red instead of green. He had a big nose and wore coke bottle glasses, as well as a tee shirt that said <em>Galaxy Guards </em>beneath a picture of a rectangular spaceship with a saucer-shaped bridge section, and a pair of purple pajama bottoms with brown teddy bear slippers. “Well, while we’re waiting for the food, why don’t we go into my room and talk business?” he suggested.</p><p>Denny whispered to Alan, “Do we really have to?”</p><p>“Yes, Denny, he is a client, after all,” Alan told him firmly. </p><p>“Lead the way, Patrick,” Sam told him with unfailing courtesy. </p><p>The young author led them into a cubicle-sized room covered with posters from movies as varied as Ed Wood’s <em>Bride of The Monster</em> to the more recent <em>Fantastic Four</em>. His unmade bed was in the corner, covered with engineering and technical manuals from the defunct sci-fi series that allegedly inspired his book. His desk was right by the window, where he had a perfect view of the housing project across the street, which was blocked by his computer monitor. </p><p>Denny looked out the window and got a bird’s eye view of a couple getting it on in the window directly across from them. “Nice view, Paddy boy,” he said approvingly. </p><p>Patrick just shrugged. “I never noticed. I’m too busy writing.”  He sat down at his desk, pressed the “save” button and minimized the screen to put away what he was working on, revealing a screen saver of a sexy alien female with purple skin in a black cat suit. Turning to the lawyers, he motioned them to sit on the bed. “Sorry about the lack of space, guys. How are you doing on my case, Mr. Kimmel?”</p><p>“It looks promising,” Sam told him, brushing aside a technical manual of a starship before sitting down on the bed. “This is Denny Crane and Alan Shore from Crane, Poole, and Schmidt. They’ll be helping us out. The first stage of our attack is to get some information from you. We’re going to ask you some questions and we’ll take it from there.”  </p><p>Midway through the questioning, there was a knock on the door. Mrs. Thomason went slowly by the bedroom door to answer it, leaning heavily on her walker. “That must be the take-out delivery boy. I’m surprised he came so quickly. It’s been the longest time since we ordered anything to be delivered here.” </p><p>As she went by, Alan came out and gently put his hand on her shoulder. “Don’t bother yourself, Mrs. Thomason. I got it.”</p><p>The old woman smiled and nodded in appreciation. “Oh, what a nice young man!”</p><p>A few minutes later, Denny, Alan, Sam and Patrick were at the kitchen table, gobbling their take-out orders of Chinese food.  Mrs. Thomason had retired to her bedroom to eat her Chicken Chow Mein by her little portable TV while watching her soap operas. Patrick gobbled down a mouthful of Moo Goo Gai Pan then turned toward Alan, who was just finishing his bowl of Won Ton soup.  “So, you see, Mr. Shore, everything that I told Mr. Kimmel was true. I showed you and Mr. Crane the manuscripts. Although there are similarities, the basic concepts are originally mine.”</p><p>Sam gave Patrick a thoughtful glance over his Buddhist Delight. “So, let me get this straight, Patrick. In the past, you had offered to sell your work to Unimount, but they repeatedly turned you down.  Is that correct?” </p><p>Patrick nodded. “Yeah, they kept sending me those annoying standardized letters of rejection.”</p><p>Alan chimed in. “But think carefully, Patrick. In any of those letters that you received, did Unimount even once ever mention the issue of possible copyright infringement?”</p><p>Patrick shook his head. “No way!  I could show you guys the letters. I have a file cabinet filled with them, organized in date order, going back to 1995.” </p><p>Denny wrinkled his brow. “You kept your rejection letters? You actually saved those things?”</p><p>“Yeah, doesn’t everybody?” </p><p>Denny shook his head. “This kid desperately needs a life.” </p><p>Sam rubbed his chin while holding up a forkful of Buddhist Delight. “Actually, in this case a degree of obsessive- compulsive document saving might be a good thing. We may need those letters to prove that the copyright issue only came into existence when Parallax Publishers offered our client a six-figure contract.” </p><p>Alan agreed. “The marketability of Patrick’s work increased when he signed with Parallax. That’s when Unimount first started to pay attention.” </p><p>Denny swallowed his mouthful of Dim Sum and muttered, “It reminds me of the groundhog.”</p><p>Patrick looked puzzled. “Groundhog? I don’t quite follow you, Mr. Crane.” </p><p>Sam raised an eyebrow. “I really don’t think that any of us do, Patrick.”</p><p>Denny shook his head impatiently. “What I meant was the groundhog is an annoying rodent that nobody gives a damn about 364 days out of the year. But one day in February, a group of country bumpkins get together and pick out this one groundhog, who they named Pennsyltucky Bill.” </p><p>Patrick interrupted politely. “Don’t you mean Punxsutawney Phil, Mr. Crane?” </p><p>Denny waved his hand from side to side. “Whatever! Anyway, those people get together, throw this grand festival, and make a whole big deal about this creature’s ability to predict the weather. People come from all over the country, tourists spend thousands of dollars in hotel room fees, restaurants and other attractions in that section of Nowhere Town, USA, where one day out of the year they go crazy about Old Bill.”</p><p>“Phil,” Sam said quietly. </p><p>“Whatever!” Denny responded impatiently. “My point is that everything is all about money. The idiots who are willing to spend it justify the event. If you ask me, I would just shoot the beast and put it out of its misery.” </p><p>Alan nodded his head in courtesy, though he didn’t fully understand what he had just heard. “Thank you, Denny, for your insight.” He redirected his attention to Patrick. “Now Patrick, this is important; have you, at any time at all, submitted the manuscript in question, the storyline for <em>Space Lore, </em>to Unimount?” </p><p>Patrick sighed. “No, I got so discouraged from past rejections that I flat out gave up on submitting anything to Unimount.  What difference does it make at this point anyway?” </p><p>Sam took up where Alan left off. “I see where Alan is getting at with his question. If Unimount was given a chance to view the manuscript and they turned it down, they would have virtually no case. If you, in good faith, had made them an offer that they did not accept, there would be no legal basis for consideration and therefore no contract. Their letter of rejection, or even their not responding to you at all within a reasonable time, would be an implied waiver of their rights to bring legal action against you.” </p><p>Alan shook his head. “Sam, isn’t Unimount’s constant rejection of Patrick’s past work enough of a basis to assume an implied waiver? For goodness’ sake, they’ve been turning the poor kid down for the past twenty years! Shouldn’t common sense be taken into consideration?” </p><p>Denny shook his head. “Since when does common sense have anything to do with the legal process?” Everyone at the table shared a quick laugh. </p><p>Sam took up the argument. “Denny has a point. Ms. Horowitz would try to divert the jury from any consideration of past rejections, even though common sense would dictate otherwise. She would try to accentuate the points of <em>Space Lore</em> that are similar to <em>Galaxy Guards </em>and probably base her whole case on those arguments. She’s tough and we’ll always have to be on the defensive.”   </p><p>Denny laughed. “I love a good fight, especially when we’re playing defense against Bethany. She knows how to get on top of things. Oh, this is going to be good!” Denny’s face reddened as he was obviously getting excited. </p><p>Alan folded his hands. “Well, gentlemen, let’s get our documents together. We have a long night ahead of us and we’re due in court in the morning.”</p><p>PART FIVE:</p><p>The next morning, the Commonwealth Civil Court was abuzz with action. Patrick, his red hair a little less bushy since his haircut yesterday, wore a faded but clean denim jacket over his only white shirt, which his mother had insisted he wear, along with his best pair of jeans, which she had pressed along with the shirt last night. He sat at the table to the left of the bench with his defense team of Sam, Alan and Denny. </p><p>At the other table to the right sat Bethany Horowitz with her client, Bernard Bloch, the Executive Director of Unimount Studios. Mr. Bloch, a heavyset but rugged individual, with graying brown hair and smile lines on his craggy face, was a well-known celebrity, famous since he was a little boy. Mostly known for his appearances in cereal commercials and other like endorsements, he was a well-established child actor. Unlike many of his contemporaries, however, he led a clean and decent life and invested his money wisely. He was married to the same woman for thirty years and raised three daughters, each financially successful and scandal-free. The 77-year-old Bloch built Unimount from the ground up, with only three investors, back in the late 1950’s. The company blossomed into a multi-million dollar corporation with Bloch’s earnings well invested in many different charities. The man was well respected by almost every citizen in the New England area. </p><p>Denny squinted.  “Isn’t that little Bernie from those old cereal commercials?”</p><p>Alan sighed. “If even Denny remembers this guy, then we’re in big trouble. Bethany is definitely out for blood.” </p><p>Denny smiled at Bethany and blew her a kiss from across the room, which she ignored. “Yes, and how sweet it is!” </p><p>The bailiff walked in. He was a tall, bald Caucasian man, who could have been thirty, could have been sixty. He had no facial hair or other defining characteristics. “All rise!” he said authoritatively. Everybody in the courtroom stood up. “Court is now in session. The honorable Norah Nantares presiding.” </p><p>The side chamber door opened and a dignified-looking African-American woman in her mid-sixties entered the room. She sat down at her seat on the bench and nodded toward those who were standing. “Be seated, please.” </p><p>Everyone sat down. Denny whispered to Sam, “I know her, Sam.  She and I once shared a kiss back in the day, thirty years ago. She’s a real peach.”   </p><p>Alan was silent, although he was quietly marveling at the kind of things that Denny’s brain was capable of remembering.                 </p><p>The judge adjusted the hearing aid in her right ear before beginning her introduction. “Good morning, everyone. We begin jury selection in the civil case of <em>Unimount Studios vs. Patrick Thomason</em>. This is a copyright infringement case. If any potential jurors are familiar with any of the named witnesses which I am about to read aloud, or have any association with either the defendant or the plaintiff, you will be given a chance to approach the bench.” As she read the list of names, the courtroom door opened quietly and Paul Lewiston entered the room and sat in the back row, careful not to disturb the proceedings.</p><p>Several jury members were questioned. Alan exercised two challenges, one of which was overruled by the judge. Sam tried to push for one juror in particular who was a stay-at-home caretaker for a sick parent who had Alzheimer’s. Surprisingly, Bethany didn’t exercise any objection and the woman was placed in the box as juror number 4. Other than that, the bickering ensued until the day’s end. Even Denny was successful in getting an Asian man removed from the jury pool, mostly because his line of questioning was so offensive. </p><p>Alan wanted a doctor who recently moved to Boston from Atlanta.  However, Bethany challenged and the judge excused him. Sam wanted a retired nurse. That time, Bethany didn’t challenge.  Alan was extremely opposed to the selection of a Russian businessman who owned his own communications company. Bethany argued over him and prevailed. </p><p>Finally, at day’s end, the jury was fully selected. All the lawyers were exhausted. The judge was almost hoarse from talking above the lawyers. She announced at the end of the day, “Okay, the plaintiff’s lawyer will present her case tomorrow morning.”  The judge banged her gavel on the bench. “The jury will reconvene tomorrow morning at 9:00 a.m.” </p><p>Everybody started to get up and people began talking to each other in low-toned voices. The bailiff let the jury out through a side door. Denny put his arm around Alan, while Sam was still sitting down whispering to Patrick. “I need to renew an old acquaintance,” Denny whispered in Alan’s ear. “Be back in a minute.”</p><p>In a flash, Denny was at the judge’s bench, shamelessly flirting with the honorable Norah Nantares. Alan shook his head and muttered to himself, “Oh, Denny, Denny, Denny...”</p><p>Paul came forward from the audience benches to join Alan, Sam, and Patrick at the defense table. He passed Denny at the judge’s bench with a sigh of frustration. He didn’t bother to greet Alan with any small talk, but got right down to business. “Damn, we really needed that Asian man on our jury!”</p><p>Alan shook his head. “Paul, if the judge hadn’t dismissed him, he would have stormed our table and beaten Denny to a pulp.”                           </p><p>“All the same,” Paul persisted, “Denny’s question to him about whether his grandfather dropped the bomb on Pearl Harbor was way over the top.” </p><p>Alan wrinkled his brow. “Very respectfully, Paul, I don’t think he would have made a good juror for us anyway. He was an out of work actor who came across as being more than a little bitter about the entertainment industry.” </p><p>Sam and Patrick stood up and joined Paul and Alan.  Paul turned to Patrick.  “How are you holding up, son?”</p><p>Patrick looked at him starry-eyed. “I’m just a little overwhelmed, Mr. Lewiston. This is the first time that I’ve been in a real courtroom.” He turned in Denny’s direction. “I wonder what Mr. Crane is discussing with the judge over there? Must be some pretty heavy legal stuff going on.”</p><p>They all turned toward Denny. Nobody could hear what was being said, but they did see the honorable Judge Norah Nantares pick up her gavel and almost hit Denny over the head with it, as he leaned over to whisper to her. The bailiff had to run over to intervene. </p><p>Paul rolled his eyes. “Let’s just leave Denny to his own devices, shall we, gentlemen?” Everybody slowly nodded. Paul continued.  “I don’t like what’s going on so far with the <em>voir doire</em> and the pretrial motions. I looked through the papers at the county clerk’s office and found out that you just got in under the wire with admitting Patrick’s letters of rejection as evidence. Why didn’t Ms. Horowitz raise an objection to the timing issue?”</p><p>Sam raised an eyebrow. “I was thinking the same thing. She could have filed a motion to suppress based on the fact that she may need more time to evaluate the exhibits properly.”</p><p>Alan raised an index finger. “But she didn’t, even though most judges would grudgingly give in to such requests.” </p><p>Sam agreed. “Her lack of resistance in jury selection also bothers me a little bit. She didn’t use all of her challenges.  The one challenge that she did put in was for that guy who had difficulty understanding English. The judge wanted to get rid of him anyway, but there were no legal grounds for doing so.” </p><p>Paul looked up. “Yes, it was almost as if Ms. Horowitz was going out of her way to accommodate Judge Nantares, at the expense of weakening her own case. Very odd, indeed.”</p><p>Alan looked worried. “Unless Ms. Horowitz has something in mind to hit the judge with later on. Then she’ll need to call in those favors.”</p><p>Patrick came forward. “To quote Obi Wan Kenobi in <em>Star Wars, Episode One</em>, ‘I have a bad feeling about this’.”</p><p>They all nodded gravely. It was at that point that Denny slowly walked away from the judge’s bench. He was escorted by the bailiff, who followed closely behind. “See you tomorrow, Norah,” Denny said over his shoulder, with a wink.</p><p>She waved him away with a gesture of annoyance. “Behave yourself, Denny!” she told him with just the slightest hint of playfulness in her voice. “Next time I might just have to have you tied up and gagged.”</p><p>Denny opened his mouth to respond, but thought better of it when the imposing bailiff growled at him. So, Denny turned away with a smile and walked back to the defense table. “She wants me,” he announced to his colleagues.</p><p>Patrick smiled. “You’re amazing, Mr. Crane.”</p><p>Alan responded half-heartedly with a sidelong glance at Sam, “He certainly is.”</p><p>Denny put one arm around Alan and the other around Sam. “So, what did I miss, boys?”</p><p>Alan waved his hand in a gesture of dismissal. “Oh, just a lot of legal stuff. You needn’t worry, Denny.”</p><p>Denny laughed. “You’re right. I can’t be bothered with that.  I’m Denny Crane!” </p><p>Paul shook his head. “Be that as it may, now that Denny has effectively annoyed the judge, we’re just going to have to work that much harder to get justice for young Mr. Thomason here.  Get plenty of sleep tonight; we have a long day ahead of us tomorrow.”</p><p>PART SIX:</p><p>The next day the courtroom was filled with cameras and reporters.  Every other person there was a member of the press, affiliated with a newspaper, a magazine or a television talk show. Alan, Sam and Patrick sat at the defense table. Paul sat in the audience, as he did yesterday, wordlessly observing. </p><p>Alan winced when a camera light was shone in his eyes. “Damn, didn’t think that a civil law suit could draw such a large crowd.”</p><p>Sam sighed. “Unimount is quite big, my friend. They own half of the media and they’re apparently convinced that they’re going to win. They want to make the case public to discourage any future young writers from signing with rival companies.”</p><p>Patrick looked ill. “I feel sick, Mr. Kimmel. I get intimidated by crowds. I remember in my third-grade school play, when I played the part of a squash in our annual vegetable parade, I retched all over the stage when I had to say my lines.”</p><p>Alan sighed. “Okay, we’ll keep that in mind for future reference.” He looked at his watch. “Where the hell is Denny?  Trial starts in five minutes.”</p><p>As if on cue, the pompous, overbearing senior partner of Crane, Poole and Schmidt entered the room. Cameras snapped, microphones hovered and questions were being bantered about by reporters in a rapid-fire pace. Denny responded in his usual way. “Denny Crane, Denny Crane, Denny Crane!” he said confidently as he made his way towards the bench. He sat down with a final wave to the crowd. “Ah, they still love me, Alan.”</p><p>Sam laughed. “Still the same old Denny!”</p><p>The bailiff entered the room. “All rise, please!” Everybody stood up respectfully. “Court is now in session, the honorable Norah Nantares presiding.”</p><p>She came in through her side chamber, sat down at her seat on the bench and looked towards the crowd. “Be seated, please.” Everybody sat down. The judge continued. “In the matter of <em>Unimount Studios vs. Patrick Thomason</em>, we will hear opening arguments. Ms. Horowitz, are you ready to proceed?”</p><p>Bethany stood up, nodded to the judge and said, “Yes, thank you, Your Honor.” She turned toward the jury. “Good morning, ladies and gentlemen. I’m sure that many of you believe that you are familiar with the nature of this case. However, through the testimony of our witnesses, I will prove that there is a great deal more to the issue of copyright infringement than what appears on the surface. I ask the jury to weigh those facts carefully and let our preponderance of evidence prove to you how you should decide. Thank you.”</p><p>She sat down and Sam got up to make his opening statement for the defense. “Good morning, everyone. I appreciate your time and patience in being here. Well, to begin with, I couldn’t agree with Ms. Horowitz more. There is a lot more to this issue than what goes into the definition of copyright infringement.  However, we will try to keep things simple. We will prove that indeed the problem really is with the definition itself. Through the testimony of our witnesses, we will prove that most of the time, when dealing with such cases, there are many gray areas in which specific classification is not so clear-cut. We will examine such areas through the testimony of our witnesses and will prove why such consideration is worthy of our attention. As Ms. Horowitz has said, this is a civil case and preponderance of evidence is our standard for judgment. I only ask that you keep an open mind.” </p><p>Sam sat down at the defense table and Denny, who was sitting next to him, patted him on the back. The judge turned to Bethany. “Ms. Horowitz, is the plaintiff ready to present his case?”</p><p>Bethany got up and looked toward the judge. “Yes, Your Honor. I’d like to call, as my first witness, Mr. Bernard Bloch.”</p><p>Mr. Bloch, wearing black loafers, brown tweed slacks and a comfy-looking beige sweater with suede elbow patches over a yellow shirt, got up from the plaintiff’s table and walked up to his chair on the stand. He was sworn in and Bethany greeted him. </p><p>“Good morning, Mr. Bloch. I’d like to ask you a few questions. What is your occupation, sir?”</p><p>Mr. Bloch put on an official-looking, serious face. “I am the seventh partner on the chain of management of Unimount Productions.”</p><p>Bethany questioned him further. “And what does that mean, sir, in terms of your competency to testify this morning?”</p><p>He turned to face the jury. He was obviously experienced in the area of testifying for court cases. He seemed to be very much calm and relaxed. “There are nine people who make the big decisions involved in whether we should forward a controversial case to our litigation department. We don’t move ahead with anything unless all of us vote unanimously. I was present when the case was first brought to us. I was also an active participant in the debating and voting process.” </p><p>Bethany continued. “And sir, would you please tell us what exactly was present in the manuscript in question, which caused Unimount to initiate a civil suit against young Mr. Thomason here? Surely, most people would argue that such an action is unnecessarily severe.” </p><p>Once again, the well-coached Bernard Bloch spoke convincingly to the jury. "Yes, the process to bring a civil action against any aspiring writer is always a difficult call to make. It’s rather sad in a way because Unimount always tries to encourage young authors like Mr. Thomason here to submit their work to us. We’re always looking for good young talent.”  </p><p>Alan stood up. “Objection!  Witness is not answering the question.” </p><p>Bethany shook her head. “Your Honor, Mr. Bloch was about to do so, before Mr. Shore interrupted.” </p><p>Judge Nantares sighed. “Overruled, but please answer the question, sir.” </p><p>Bloch continued. “One of our correspondents reviewed the manuscript for the first volume of the <em>Space Lore </em>series written by Mr. Patrick Thomason, and subsequently published and copyrighted by Parallax Publishers. He followed procedure by first submitting it to the Analysis Department, where it was reviewed for submission to Comparative Editing. After being reviewed there, it was submitted to Litigation. Litigation, after its own investigation, had supported the findings of both departments that there were similarities in Mr. Thomason’s manuscripts which were too obvious to be ignored, when compared to our <em>Galaxy Guards </em>TV series and novels. It was a long and grievous proceeding, which went through hours of debate, but ultimately we decided that we needed to enforce our legal rights.” </p><p>Bethany nodded. “Thank you, sir. Now you were talking about your appreciation for fine work. Apparently, Mr. Thomason’s work, as presented in his <em>Space Lore </em>series, showed some degree of talent. The fans obviously took a liking to it. Did you and your staff at Unimount recognize such talent? If so, why did you not offer him a contract?”</p><p>Mr. Bloch put on a sad face. “Yes, Ms. Horowitz. You are correct. We did believe that Mr. Thomason was very talented. However, sadly, our first contact with his manuscript came to us after he had signed on with Parallax. You see, Mr. Thomason never really gave us a chance to evaluate his work.”</p><p>Sam stood up. “Objection, Your Honor! Witness testimony is not accurate. Mr. Thomason gave Unimount no less than 20 chances to evaluate his work and was given 20 standardized letters of rejection, which have been entered into evidence.” </p><p>Bethany quickly spoke. “Your Honor, Mr. Kimmel is misleading the jury. None of those letters of rejection were for the manuscript in question, <em>Space Lore</em>.”</p><p>The judge banged her gavel. “Overruled! Please continue, Ms. Horowitz.” </p><p>Bethany nodded courteously and then turned to Mr. Bloch. “Sir, if you had been given the chance to evaluate the manuscript for <em>Space Lore</em>, would you and your partners at Unimount have approved it for publication?” </p><p>Bloch looked convincingly at the jury. “Most certainly. We at Unimount Inc. would have taken pride in publishing fine work, such as Mr. Thomason’s <em>Space Lore</em>.” </p><p>Bethany appeared to be satisfied. She looked toward Sam and said, “No further questions. Your witness.” </p><p>Sam took his time in getting up. He slowly walked over to the witness stand. “Mr. Bloch, it is a pleasure to meet you. I must say, I am impressed with your commitment to secure young talent. However, in reviewing your past publications, I noticed something interesting. You have approved two hundred novels for publication in the last year.”</p><p>Bloch smiled. “Yes, our approval rate is certainly above average, as you can see.”</p><p>Sam responded assertively, “Impressive numbers indeed. Except for one little thing--your two hundred publications that were approved last year just happened to be written by the same ten authors. The same authors, may I add, that were on board with your company ever since Unimount branched out into publication, ten years ago. Some of them were even scriptwriters on your show, were they not?”</p><p>Bloch’s face began to turn red as he answered slowly, “Yes, we do like to keep everything in the family, so to speak.”</p><p>“Yes, and what a nice, big family you have, sir!” Sam said enthusiastically. “Let’s see, F.C.C. Montana was your former assistant back in the 70’s, when you were still working on Westerns. Eugene Boone was your production assistant, whom you knew from your college days. Ellis Harlequin was rumored to have ghostwritten half of your scripts for <em>Galaxy Guards</em>, but you let him into your little family to avoid a lawsuit. He married your wife’s sister, didn’t he?”</p><p>Bloch’s flushed face began to perspire copiously. “Um, yes, of course.”</p><p>“Oh, and speaking of your beautiful wife, Margo Bennett,” Sam added, grinning maliciously, “didn’t she also have a recurring role in your series? Not to mention all the voiceovers she did for the animated Saturday morning version. Need I go on, Mr. Bloch?”</p><p>Smiling nervously, Bloch pulled out a red handkerchief and wiped his sweaty face. “Really, Mr. Kimmel, I don’t see where you’re going with this.”</p><p>Sam took one step forward so that he was nose to nose with him. As both men had rather prominent noses, the effect was like that of two swordsmen crossing blades. “My point is simply this: I don’t see the logic of asserting your search for new talent when you keep on using the same authors over and over again.”</p><p>Bloch responded quickly. “Can I help it if those authors are the ones who have the most talent?”</p><p>“But surely familiarity leads to replication, does it not? And how does that affect your definition of originality?”</p><p>“The American public has decided what they want and what they don’t want,” Bloch declared. “We’re just giving the people what they want.”</p><p>“Isn’t that what Parallax Publishers was doing too?” Sam asked innocently.</p><p>“I’m in no position to speak about a second-rate publishing house that comes out with an inferior copy of our most successful series,” Bloch said haughtily. </p><p>Sam responded casually, “So if this is no concern of yours, then why are we wasting our time here? No further questions.” He walked away from the witness box, leaving Bloch dumbfounded.</p><p>Judge Nantares looked in Bethany’s direction. “Care to re-examine, Ms. Horowitz?”</p><p>Bethany smiled politely. “No, not right now, Your Honor. Thank you.” </p><p>The judge and everyone else in the courtroom were surprised at her seeming passivity. “Very well, Ms. Horowitz, would you like to call your next witness?” </p><p>“Yes, Your Honor, the prosecution would like to call Professor Richard Monte.” Heads turned as a well-built, sophisticated-looking, sixty-something-year old man with a neat long, white ponytail entered the room. He was extremely well dressed; his tailored black dress jacket complimented his red turtleneck shirt, and equally well-tailored black woolen pants fit perfectly around his muscular posterior. Several women in the jury box turned their heads as he walked past. Men admired his fine Corinthian leather shoes. He strode to the witness stand and sat down like a king upon his throne. As he walked past Denny, he glanced at him with the slightest hint of arrogance.</p><p>Denny wrinkled his brow and mumbled something about “forty-one years”. Alan and Sam looked at him oddly, wondering what he was talking about, but decided not to pursue it. </p><p>Judge Nantares asked Bethany, “Ms. Horowitz, would you care to pursue your case?”</p><p>“Yes, Your Honor,” Bethany said cheerfully. She jumped up from her chair and scampered over to the witness stand like a happy little girl. “<em>Buenos dias, Señor Monte</em>,” she said to the witness. “Would you care to introduce yourself to the court?”         </p><p>He smiled charmingly at the jury, making sure he made eye contact with all the ladies. He spoke with a cultured Spanish accent, which sounded Castilian. “Yes, I am Professor Richard Monte, associate professor of comparative literature at UCLA. I have been hired by Unimount Publications to do some important consulting work for this case.”</p><p>Bethany asked him eagerly, “Mr. Monte, what exactly is the definition of comparative literature?”</p><p>He looked down and smiled at the diminutive lawyer. “Well, Ms. Horowitz, we have studied and compared journals for similarities in grammar, structure, punctuation, and of course content. UCLA has published many of my articles comparing fine works from many noted authors. I am sure you are familiar with Philippa Gregory, Mercedes Lackey, and, of course, George Lucas.”</p><p>Bethany nodded, satisfied with his answer. “So, have you read the synopsis for Unimount’s <em>Galaxy Guards </em>series along with Mr. Thomason’s novel <em>Space Lore</em>, published by Parallax Publishers?”</p><p>He smiled again and said, “Yes, I have read them both very carefully.”</p><p>“And what is your conclusion, sir?”</p><p>Monte’s suntanned face became very serious. “I would have to say that if imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, then Mr. Thomason is being very flattering to your client. Indeed, my first impression was that I was reading a tribute to <em>Galaxy Guards </em>written by one of its many fans.”</p><p>Bethany seemed to be content with his answer and pressed on.  “And in your opinion, sir, do you believe there is evidence of copyright infringement?”</p><p>He answered assertively, “Oh yes, very much so. Not only the similarities, but also the brazen impudence of this young man for not even submitting this manuscript to Unimount for review. I believe that if he had submitted this story to your client first, he would have had a very good chance of being published. But since he chose to submit his story to the competition, then he must be punished to the full extent of the law.” He cast a sidelong glance at Denny, who seemed to be very nervous. </p><p>Bethany did not notice the tacit interaction between the two men. “No further questions, Your Honor.” She walked away with a skip in her step, saying to Alan as she passed the defense table, “Your witness, Mr. Shore.”</p><p>Alan seemed more annoyed than impressed by this witness. He got up, straightened his tie and walked toward the witness stand as if he was going into battle. “Good morning, Mr. Monte,” he said pleasantly.  “Or should I say Professor Monte? Your credentials are very impressive.”</p><p>“Thank you, Mr. Shore,” said Monte with an arrogant nod of his beautiful white head. </p><p>“If I were a student in one of your classes,” Alan continued, “perhaps I too would be as impressed by your performance as the jury is today. However, this is not a classroom. It is a court of law, and you are a sworn witness required to answer truthfully. So, tell me, Mr. Monte, which <em>Galaxy Guards </em>novel by George Lucas impressed you the most?”</p><p>Monte looked thoughtful and responded, “The one, I forget the title, about the man in the black helmet. He was quite power-driven.”</p><p>Alan smiled. “I have no doubt. However, as much as I hate to contradict you, there were no <em>Galaxy Guards </em>novels written by George Lucas. If you had read the manuscripts in question as you claimed to have done, you would have known that.”</p><p>The professor smiled in a smooth manner.  “My dear Mr. Shore, as I told you before I have read many novels for evaluation and comparison. Your mention of a misplaced author certainly does not devalue my testimony in any way.” He smiled at the judge.  “Am I not right, Your Honor?”</p><p>Judge Nantares, momentarily charmed by the professor’s suave manner, said, “The witness has a point.” She addressed the court stenographer.  “Let Mr. Shore’s last question be stricken from the record.” She then turned to Alan and said, “Mr. Shore, please try to remain on topic.”</p><p>Alan, somewhat befuddled by the last exchange, turned to Sam, who whispered something to him. Alan took a long drink of water and continued. “Yes, I will remain on topic, Your Honor.  Professor, you took it upon yourself to criticize my client for not submitting his manuscript to Unimount. Tell me, how many times do you allow a student in one of your classes to submit a paper on an assigned topic?”</p><p>Monte responded, “I practice only the strictest academic ethics. A paper can only be submitted once. There are no second chances.”</p><p>Alan said, “Yes, indeed, Professor, your academic record shows that you are very strict in adhering to this code. So, you wouldn’t even accept a paper that was turned in a second time, would you?”</p><p>“Certainly not!” Monte seemed offended by the suggestion. </p><p>“So put yourself in the position of Mr. Thomason here,” Alan suggested. “He has been submitting manuscripts to your associates at Unimount for the past ten years, constantly receiving one rejection letter after another. Why should he assume, by any stretch of the imagination, that his <em>Space Lore </em>manuscript would be given any consideration at all?”</p><p>Monte hesitated before responding. “Surely if he had persisted, he might have been more fortunate this time. One of Unimount’s most popular authors was rejected three times before his novel was finally accepted. And it was a bestseller.”</p><p>Alan leaned forward. “And which one of these ‘in house’ writers,” he said, holding up both hands and wiggling his fingers to indicate quotation marks, “was fortunate enough to finally be accepted after being rejected three times?”</p><p>Monte hesitated a lot longer this time, then coughed and mumbled a name. “What was that, sir?” asked Alan, leaning forward again.  Monte mumbled again, a little louder. “I’m sorry, sir, I can’t hear you. What was that writer’s name again?”</p><p>This time the professor clenched his teeth before replying.  “Ellis Harlequin!” he hissed.</p><p>“Ellis Harlequin?” Alan said loudly, with a look of boyish innocence on his handsome face. “You mean Mr. Bloch’s brother-in-law? The same one who tried to sue him some years ago for plagiarism? Who dropped his suit right before announcing his engagement to Mrs. Bloch’s sister? Who was given a three-book contract as a wedding present? Yes, Unimount certainly sounds like one big happy family. By the way, Professor, do you know of any other authors who were published by Unimount after being rejected repeatedly?”</p><p>There was an even longer pause on Professor Monte’s part before he finally said, “No, but certainly that is not relevant to this-”</p><p>“Nothing further, Professor Monte,” Alan cut him off. “<em>Muchos gracias, Señor</em>.” He turned and went back to the defense table with a spring in his step. Professor Monte looked very ill at ease and mumbled something in Spanish that sounded vaguely obscene.</p><p>“Does the defense have anything to add?” asked the judge.</p><p>Instantly Denny Crane sprang up. “Yes, Your Honor! Denny Crane for the defense!” There was a slight hubbub in the courtroom as the reporters all sprang to their feet, holding out microphones and cameras in Denny’s direction. </p><p>Judge Nantares banged her gavel, looking as though she wanted to bang it over someone’s head. “Order! Order!”</p><p>Paul Lewiston, who was in the first row of the spectator’s seats, turned a whiter shade of pale. Alan and Sam, who were sitting on either side of Denny, grabbed both of his hands. Sam said in a low voice, “Denny, are you sure about this?”</p><p>Alan whispered as well, “Denny, things are going well. Let’s not tempt fate here.”</p><p>Denny turned to Alan and said, “Alan, you know I can resist anything but temptation. Step aside, gentlemen!”  He pulled his hands free and walked toward the witness stand with a confident swagger. </p><p>Monte leaned forward to face him directly, glaring at him like a snake attempting to mesmerize its prey. “Ah, Mr. Crane,” he said, showing his teeth in a parody of a smile, his Spanish accent becoming more pronounced and less refined with each word he spoke.</p><p>“Good afternoon, sir,” Denny replied with false courtesy, his smile as phony as Monte’s. “I see you’ve done quite well for yourself.  I’m just curious as to why a reputable professor like you would take time out of his busy schedule to fly all the way from sunny California to the chilly shores of Massachusetts, to testify for a hack publishing company like Minimount.”</p><p>Bernard Bloch jumped up and yelled from the prosecution’s table, “That’s Unimount!”</p><p>The judge banged her gavel and said, “Order! Order! Let the record show that the corporation’s name is Unimount.  Please be seated, Mr. Bloch.” Bloch sat down heavily, his face red with fury. Judge Nantares then glared at Denny and said icily, “Please continue, Mr. Crane.”</p><p>“Thank you, Your Honor,” Denny said suavely. “As I was saying, why would an eminent professor like you leave the sunny shores of California for the chilly climes of Massachusetts just to testify in this case?”</p><p>Monte drew himself up, shoulders back, head high, and declared, “Because I am an expert witness!”</p><p>“Really?” Now it was Denny’s turn to look boyishly innocent.  “Are you sure it’s not because you’re a paid witness? You’re still paying alimony to your ex-wife, aren’t you?”</p><p>Monte’s dark-skinned face turned red. “As my students would say, don’t go there, Mr. Crane,” he warned him softly.</p><p>“Oh, I’ve been there, done that, and gotten the tee shirt six times over,” Denny assured him cheerfully. “But are you still married to that little lollipop you left your first wife for?  I certainly hope you treat her better than poor Pilar, the mother of your seven children.”</p><p>The spectators in the courtroom began murmuring in shock and awe. Monte jumped up and hissed, “Gringo bastard!”</p><p>Judge Nantares banged her gavel and said, “Order! Order! Mr. Crane, I don’t see how this is relevant. If you don’t stop wasting the court’s time, I will hold you in contempt.”</p><p>“Your Honor couldn’t possibly have as much contempt for me as this man has,” Denny informed her grandly. “Because I’m the one who handled his wife’s divorce forty-one years ago!”</p><p>The reporters’ cameras flashed as they took pictures of the witness and Denny. Paul put his head in his hands and groaned.  Alan looked stunned.  Sam just shook his head and sighed, “Oh, Denny...” while Professor Monte looked as if he wanted to kill Denny.</p><p>“Yes, Mr. Crane, forty-one years ago you ruined my life by stripping me of my dignity in court, as well as most of my income!” Monte informed him angrily.</p><p>“Oh, you mean all that money you got from the sale of that property of yours in Mexico?” Denny asked. “When it was purchased by that developer from Las Vegas, to open a branch of their most popular casino? You really made out well there, didn’t you, Rico?”</p><p>“That’s Professor Richard Monte to you, Mr. Crane!” the professor sneered.</p><p>“No, actually, back then your name was Rico Maldonado. Just another poor chicken farmer who could barely speak a word of English. But after you sold the land, you and your entire family moved to sunny California so you could all enjoy the benefits of the American lifestyle, just like the <em>Beverly Hillbillies.”<br/></em><br/>“You are getting on my nerves, Mr. Crane,” Monte, or Maldonado informed him, clenching and unclenching his long, brown fingers spasmodically as he gazed longingly at Denny’s fat neck.</p><p>“Oh, yes, you were really living <em>la vida loca </em>back then, weren’t you?” Denny taunted him. “You bought your family a big house in San Diego, a couple of nice big cars, new clothes, jewelry for the wife, a private school for the kids. Then you decided to go back to school yourself. But instead of being satisfied with just a GED, you had to go to college. Once you got a taste of the academic life, you had to have more. So, you got yourself a PhD. Then you got a speech teacher to help you get rid of your common Mexican accent, so you’d sound more like Ricardo Montaban than Ricky Ricardo.”</p><p>By now, you could practically see the steam coming out of the professor’s ears. “Ricky Ricardo was Cuban, you stupid gringo!” he hissed like a poisonous snake.</p><p>Denny just shrugged. “Well, if you’ve heard one Spic, you’ve heard ‘em all.” The whole courtroom was in an uproar at that remark. Judge Nantares looked just as angry as Monte as she banged her gavel loudly.</p><p>“Mr. Crane, I will not have any racist remarks in my court! Now please get to the point or I will find you in contempt!”</p><p>Denny put on a serious face. “Yes, Your Honor, I will. I am merely trying to establish that the witness, far from being a respected academic, is really struggling to keep his head above water financially. You see, after he traded in his faithful, loving wife for one of his American classmates, he thought that Pilar would be satisfied with merely the house and a car and custody of the children. How benevolent of him! But I took Pilar’s case and saw to it that she and the children got their fair share of his money. So instead of going on an extended honeymoon with his trophy wife, he had to stay in California and accept the first teaching job he could get in order to recover from the financial setback. And this is why he accepted money from Meximount to testify here today.”</p><p>Bloch leapt to his feet again and yelled, “Unimount, damn it!” banging his fist on the table. </p><p>Before the judge could say anything, Professor Monte leapt to his feet and leaned toward Denny aggressively, his long, white hair streaming round his face, his ponytail undone at this point, black eyes burning with rage, showing his teeth like a mad dog. “You gringo bastard!” he spat at the rotund lawyer, who was smiling smugly. “Forty-one years ago, you ruined me!  Pilar was just a peasant woman who didn’t know American law. I could have gotten rid of her easily and enjoyed a new life, with a new wife more suited to my American lifestyle.</p><p>“But you had to tell Pilar her rights and turn her into another money-hungry, vindictive ex-wife! Thanks to you, I not only lost most of my fortune, but the young woman I wanted to marry! When she found out I was no longer as rich as I was before, she left me for a younger man with more money! And I blame you, Mr. Crane!</p><p>“So, when Mr. Bloch offered me money to testify as his expert witness, more money than I could make in a year of teaching, and I found out you were working for the defense, that sealed the deal for me! It wasn’t just about the money, Mr. Crane. I wanted to ruin you like you ruined me forty-one years ago!” </p><p>There was a dead silence in the courtroom as everyone witnessed the drama unfolding before them. All eyes focused on Denny, who was just loving the attention. He walked right up to the witness stand to face his old nemesis. “Ah, don’t sweat it, Rico,” he said casually. “You can always go back to Mexico and raise chickens again.” </p><p>Monte couldn’t contain his anger anymore. He grabbed Denny by the neck and throttled him. Bloch started banging on the table again yelling, “Kill him! Kill him!” gleefully. The reporters were catching every moment of this confrontation on film. Sam and Alan ran to Denny’s aid as various court officials tried to separate Monte and Denny.</p><p>Finally, four court officers, each holding Monte’s arms and legs respectively, were able to carry him out of the courtroom as he yelled, “This is not over, Mr. Crane! I won’t rest until I have ruined you!”</p><p>The only reason Denny didn’t make a smart-alecky remark in reply to this threat was that he was still holding his sore neck and gasping for breath. Sam and Alan escorted him back to the defense table, where their client poured him a glass of ice water from the pitcher provided for them and held it out to Denny. He took it and gulped it down, gasping for air between gulps. Sam turned to the judge and said calmly, “The defense is finished with this witness, Your Honor.”</p><p>“I should hope so!” said the judge. She then suggested a short recess. The crowd started to break up into small groups, each one talking about the scene they had just witnessed. Paul, trying to maintain a shred of dignity, got up and started to walk toward the defense table. He was momentarily stopped by the bailiff, but was able to go through when he showed him his business card from Crane, Poole, and Schmidt. He walked to the table, putting on an air of calm, and nodded to the lawyers and their client.</p><p>“Gentlemen,” he said in a dignified manner, “believe it or not, this disaster might still be salvageable.” He turned toward Alan. “Wonderful interrogation of Mr. Bloch, Alan,” he complimented him. Then he turned to Sam. “Good introduction with Professor Monte, Sam.” He then turned to Denny, who smiled and opened his arms wide, waiting for a big hug and a compliment.  Paul just rolled his eyes to the ceiling and ignored him, turning to Alan and Sam as if Denny wasn’t even there. He started to say, “We could still follow through with-”   </p><p>Alan held up his hand and said, “Just a moment, Paul! You’re completely ignoring Denny’s contribution here.”</p><p>Sam took up where Alan left off. “He did establish that the witness was being paid for his testimony, as well as having ulterior motives for testifying.”</p><p>Alan chimed in. “Obviously the sanity issue could be raised here, so the jury would be less likely to take his testimony seriously.”</p><p>Paul nodded his head in agreement and started to speak with a note of caution in his voice. “Yes, so far it seems that things are going well here. A little too well, if you ask me.” He then pointed toward the plaintiff’s table where Bethany was sitting, casually speaking on a cell phone. He continued. “Ms. Horowitz is a little too calm right now. She had grounds to object to our testimony at least five times, but she said nothing. I have a bad feeling about this.”</p><p>“You too?” remarked Patrick Thomason. </p><p>Paul nodded to him. “Yes, young man, I’m afraid that you might just get to see the uglier side of our legal system.”</p><p>Patrick responded, “Gee, I never knew that real life was so much like sci-fi!”</p><p>Paul sighed. “Young man, sometimes real life is not only stranger than fiction, but harder to believe.”  </p><p>Bethany Horowitz was actually smiling as she turned off her cell phone. She did so just in time for Judge Nantares to return to the courtroom from her chambers. After all had risen respectfully, the judge ordered all to be seated, while Paul quietly returned to his side row seat. </p><p>The judge turned to Bethany. “Do you have anything else for us, Ms. Horowitz? Your list of witnesses does not list anybody else who’s scheduled to appear.”</p><p>Bethany responded, “Yes, Your Honor, I do.” She nodded to one of the court officers in the back of the room. A moment later, the door opened in back and was held open by two other court officers. An elderly man in a wheelchair was brought in by a nurse on one side and a physical therapist on the other side. Attached to the wheelchair was an IV bag and an oxygen tank.  The audience mumbled inquisitively as the man was wheeled in slowly.</p><p>As the man in the wheelchair approached the full view of the court, Patrick and Sam turned pale. “We are so dead,” Patrick muttered to his lawyer.</p><p>Sam slowly nodded. “I never saw this coming.” </p><p>Alan looked at the two of them, wondering what all of the fuss was about. “You two look like you’ve seen a ghost. What is this all about?”</p><p>Denny put a gentle hand on his friend’s shoulder. “That’s Peter Clement,” he whispered.</p><p>Alan whirled impatiently toward the defense table. “Who the hell is Peter Clement?”</p><p>Patrick took a deep breath. “Mr. Shore, Peter Clement is the actor who played the first Commanding Officer of the IFS PROMETHEUS, Captain Kenneth Thomas Jackson!”</p><p>Sam took up where Patrick left off. “Yes, Patrick is correct.  Clement’s character was hugely popular with the fans for the first three seasons of the show. The show would have lasted longer if Clement hadn’t been injured in an auto accident in 1984. After which he obviously had to leave the show. Two sequels were created, one with a black captain, the next with a female captain, but neither measured up to the popularity of the original captain.”</p><p>Patrick continued. “The man was a legend in his own time. We are so dead.”</p><p>Alan paced back and forth. “But nowhere on the witness list is Mr. Clement’s name! He must be a surprise witness. The plaintiff has an obligation to disclose to us all witnesses to be presented. The judge will never allow this!”</p><p>Sam sighed. “I’ve seen stranger things happen, Mr. Shore.”</p><p>Denny shrugged his shoulders. “Damn, Bethany’s real good.”</p><p>Judge Nantares turned to Bethany. “Ms. Horowitz, is there a reason for this gentleman to be here?”</p><p>Bethany put on a face of sad compassion as she spoke pitifully to the judge. “Yes, Your Honor, this man is Peter Clement, surprise witness for the plaintiff.”</p><p>Alan and Sam both jumped up and yelled in unison, “Objection!” </p><p>The judge looked to Bethany again. “Ms. Horowitz, you know I’m under no obligation to allow this man to testify. Is there a reason for him to do so?”</p><p>Bethany responded in a quavering voice. “Begging the court’s indulgence, Your Honor, I know this is highly irregular. But my witness obviously has some physical limitations which limits him severely. Because of his health issues, I didn’t even know if he would be able to travel. That’s why I couldn’t, in all good conscience, put his name on the witness list. I just found out this morning that he would be here.” </p><p>Alan whispered to Sam, “Do you see her nose growing longer?”</p><p>Sam chuckled softly. Denny took Alan literally and whispered, “No, looks fine to me.”</p><p>Bethany continued. “Your Honor, please, this man has come so far and he wants to be heard. Please, I’m begging you-” She clasped her tiny hands together and looked up at the judge pitifully. “The doctors don’t give him very much time. He wants to be heard.”</p><p>Judge Nantares sighed and responded. “It depends on the defense counsel. If they would not allow him to testify, I would be obligated to respect their decision.”</p><p>All eyes were on the defense table. Alan, Patrick, and Sam were silent for a moment. Then Alan whispered something to Sam, who nodded his head.  Sam stood up and addressed the judge. “Your Honor, we request a five-minute recess to confer with our client.  May we use the back room, please?”</p><p>The judge said, “Very well, we will reconvene in five minutes.”  She banged her gavel and sat back, folding her manicured hands on the desk’s polished surface. </p><p>Sam, Alan, and Patrick rose and walked quickly toward the back room. Paul soon followed. Alan looked behind him to try to find Denny. He sighed as he saw his friend trying to initiate some type of communication with Mr. Clement. For a brief moment he smiled, wondering which of the two was more far gone mentally.  He went over and gently pulled his friend aside; Denny waved to the man in the wheelchair as Alan dragged him off.</p><p>Wordlessly they entered the back room. Alan shut the door. They all sat down at the long table. Paul pounded his fist on the table and said loudly, “Damn it, I knew she was up to something!”</p><p>Sam got up and paced the room with his hands behind his back.  “You have to admire the logic of her tactics,” he stated calmly as he paced back and forth. “They have us pinned either way.”</p><p>“So how do we break their hold?” asked Patrick, tears welling up in his eyes behind their coke bottle lenses. “How can we possibly testify against Captain Kenneth Thomas Jackson?  Every <em>Galaxy Guards </em>fan will hate us!”</p><p>Alan sighed. “He’s right. If we don’t allow him to testify, we’ll look like the bad guys. If we do, then we’ll still be caught with our pants down.”</p><p>Paul said, “If only we’d had more time to prepare, we could have assembled a decent defense. But since Ms. Horowitz is playing the sympathy game and we’re working with a judge who has a record of compassion for the handicapped, we’re sunk.”</p><p>“Not necessarily.” Denny was sitting up straight and had that smile on his face and that gleam in his eye which meant trouble. </p><p>Paul looked at Denny and said straight out, “Denny, I’m ordering you as the administrative partner of Crane, Poole and Schmidt to stay out of this! Even though you’re one of the founding partners, my voice still holds a great deal of weight on the board. I could hurt you, and I won’t hesitate to do so if you do anything at all to damage our case. All of the media is here and we’ll be ruined if we let this one get away from us. Alan, if you enable Denny in any way, it’s needless to say that your career with our firm will be permanently finished. Sam, I can’t fire you, but you can rest assured that anything that you do to countermand my orders will affect your firm’s standing with Crane, Poole and Schmidt. One hostile phone call from me to your boss could seriously jeopardize your own legal career, too.  So, let’s not make a bad situation any worse, gentlemen. Do I make myself clear?” The three lawyers nodded slowly. After a moment of silence, Paul continued. “So, where do we go from here?”</p><p>Alan scratched his chin. “Well since we all agree that we have the obligation to allow Mr. Clement to testify, let’s just see where his testimony takes us. Maybe Bethany will slip up somewhere.”</p><p>Sam nodded. “Yes, and then maybe we’ll have an opening to gain some ground during the cross.”</p><p>Denny’s brow wrinkled. “I wonder if he’ll be able to sign autographs when this case is over.” There was a collective sigh of helplessness, as everyone ignored Denny’s inquiry. </p><p>Paul looked up at Sam and Alan. “So it’s agreed, we’ll allow Mr. Clement to testify and we’ll see how Ms. Horowitz presents her case. We’ll take it from there. Gentlemen, render no unnecessary objections. We have to handle this situation very carefully. We can’t look like we’re oppressing a handicapped celebrity, especially not in front of the media. Anything that we have to say, save it for the cross-examination.  Right now, we just sit back and listen. Agreed?”</p><p>The three lawyers nodded slowly, while Patrick tried to comprehend what was happening. </p><p>********</p><p>The trial reconvened and everyone returned to their respective places. </p><p>Judge Nantares turned to Sam. “Mr. Kimmel, will the defense allow Mr. Clement to testify?”</p><p>All eyes were on Sam as he answered. “Yes, Your Honor. We would be happy to hear what Mr. Clement has to share with us.”</p><p>The judge turned to Bethany. “Ms. Horowitz?” </p><p>Bethany got up and slowly walked to the wheelchair, which was set up near the witness box. “Thank you, Your Honor, and my thanks to the defense counsel for allowing this witness to testify.” She turned to Mr. Clement. “Good afternoon, sir. Most people in this room know who you are and are honored by your presence here. But for the record, please state your name and your reason for coming here today to speak with us. Take your time. Everyone is well aware of the effort that you need to put into speaking.”</p><p>The nurse who accompanied Mr. Clement turned the wheel chair to face the audience. The witness spoke through a tube in his larynx; his voice was filtered through an electronic voice synthesizer, which gave it a flat, mechanical quality, like a robot’s. “My-name-is-Pe-ter-Cle-ment. I-am-here-to-tes-ti-fy for-for-Meany-I-mean-Uni-mount.” Bloch’s face momentarily reddened. Some members of the audience sobbed, as they watched the effort which was required for this man to speak.</p><p>Bethany put on a sad face. “Thank you, sir. I’m sure that everyone appreciates the efforts that you’ve made to be here, under such difficult circumstances.” She turned to the judge and asked sympathetically, “Your Honor, considering the extenuating circumstances involved here, I beg the court’s permission to allow this witness to answer testimony in ‘yes’ or ‘no’ form, with the exception of my last question. Is such acceptable to the court?”</p><p>Judge Nantares looked sympathetically at the witness. “I’ll allow it, if defense has no objections.” She turned toward Sam, who whispered to Alan. Alan momentarily looked toward the ceiling in frustration, but grudgingly nodded.</p><p>Sam stood up. “Yes, Your Honor. Of course, the witness will be extended any liberties that are necessary.” He sat down and sighed.</p><p>Judge Nantares turned back to Bethany. “Very well, Ms. Horowitz, you may proceed.”</p><p>Bethany nodded respectfully. “Thank you, Your Honor.” She turned toward the witness. “Mr. Clement, is it true that back in 1981 you were awarded the role of Kenneth Thomas Jackson, the first captain of the <em>Galaxy Guards </em>series?”  </p><p>Clement turned his head sideways, and his nurse quickly adjusted the tube in his throat and turned up the volume on the voice synthesizer. “Yes,” came the robotic reply.</p><p>Bethany nodded sympathetically. “Thank you, Mr. Clement. Now we all realize that you suffer an enormous physical disability. Needless to say, your catastrophic accident has caused you to suffer great physical, mental, and emotional problems. Do you regret your acting career being cut short as well?”</p><p>Clement took a moment to pause and take a breath. “Yes.” His voice was flat and emotionless, but the expression on his once handsome face, now lined with pain and wrinkled with age, was incredibly sad. The nurse tenderly brushed back a lock of faded blond hair from his forehead.</p><p>Bethany nodded and then asked another question. “Thank you, Mr. Clement. May I ask you about your source of income? Is it true that, because of our Federal Health Care cuts to the disabled, your only source of income comes from residual and royalty checks from your days as an actor?”</p><p>“Yes,” Clement replied in his eerily robotlike voice.</p><p>“After your terrible accident, did Mr. Bloch take over your finances and create an annuity for you, so that you would always have access to your money?”</p><p>Clement’s faded blue eyes looked warily at Bloch, who smiled and nodded at him reassuringly. “Yes,” Clement answered, with an air of reluctance.</p><p>“Did Mr. Bloch also arrange for you to be admitted to the Saint Elegius Nursing Home in Hollywood, which caters to disabled members of show business?”</p><p>“Yes.” Clement’s faded blue eyes suddenly became much brighter as he stared at Bloch. In fact, he seemed to be glaring at his former boss and benefactor. Bloch kept smiling, but avoided eye contact with the former star of his successful series.         </p><p>“And after your doctors had established that you had limited movement of your head and right hand but would never walk again, didn’t Mr. Bloch arrange for you to become a permanent resident of Saint Elegius? In your own private room, with round the clock nursing care, a view of the Hollywood hills, and unlimited computer access? With the finest physical therapist in California to teach you how to type on a keyboard and use a mouse, after you had learned to write all over again, so you could still sign autographs for your devoted fans?”</p><p>Clement let out a long, melancholy sigh, which sounded like a ghost in the machine, before answering. “Yes.”</p><p>“Hasn’t Mr. Bloch even provided you with a driver and your own private van, specially equipped for your needs, to take you and your nurse to Unimount-sponsored conventions? So that you can continue to see all your adoring fans?”</p><p>Clement suddenly clenched his right hand into a tight fist as his eyes blazed even brighter. One of the monitors attached to him began beeping loudly. His nurse had to speak to him softly to calm him down, stroking his paralyzed left arm as she took his pulse from the right wrist. “Is he all right?” Bethany asked the nurse anxiously.</p><p>“Yes, he gets this way sometimes when he’s frustrated,” the pretty blonde nurse replied. “Just give him a minute to settle down.” She continued to stroke Clement’s arm and speak to him soothingly. He shut his eyes and hung his head in resignation, looking like an old war horse ready to collapse in his harness. </p><p>Alan leaned over to Sam and whispered to him. “They should be ashamed of themselves, dragging him out like this to put him on display. They’re robbing him of his dignity.”</p><p>Sam nodded and whispered back. “They have no shame, Alan. Why else would they treat one of science fiction’s greatest heroes like a performing dog?” He turned to Denny. “Denny, what do you think of this display?”</p><p>“I like it; that nurse has great legs,” Denny replied. Sam rolled his eyes while Alan gave a sidelong glance at the nurse himself, but didn’t say anything.</p><p>As soon as Clement was able to raise his head again, Bethany continued her questioning. “Is it true, Mr. Clement, that it hurts you to hear about hack writers who try to rip off everything you worked so hard for back in the day when you were a big star?”</p><p>Clement hesitated, turned his head toward Patrick and looked almost sorrowful, as if he realized the magnitude of his response. “Yes,” he said slowly, drawing out the word reluctantly.</p><p>Bethany turned away from the man in the wheelchair. From Sam’s perspective, he could see a nasty little smile on her face, like a lioness going in for the kill. After a brief glance at Bloch, who gave her a wink and a smile, she turned back to the man in the wheelchair. “Once again, Mr. Clement, we know how much of an effort it is for you to testify. So, I will only ask you one more question. Mr. Bloch informed me that you wanted to answer this last question in a full sentence. The question is--” Bethany paused dramatically to take a deep breath and brace herself. “The doctors say that you don’t have much longer to live. How would you like to be remembered?”</p><p>There was a long silence in the courtroom that lasted so long you could hear a pin drop. Bloch fidgeted nervously in his chair, as if to indicate deep impatience. Finally, Peter Clement spoke. “I-want-to-be-re-mem-bered-as-Cap-tain-Ken-neth-Thom-as-Jack-son.”</p><p>Bethany paused again as she reached out and took Clement’s right hand, gazing at him sympathetically. The jury was so overcome by emotion that they did not notice that Clement was attempting to take his hand away from her. The nurse intervened just in time, gently pulling his hand away from Bethany’s. “He doesn’t like being touched by strangers,” the nurse told her quietly.</p><p>Bethany released her grip and nodded respectfully to Mr. Clement. She silently wondered why he didn’t seem reluctant to be touched when Denny walked over to take his hand earlier.  Meanwhile, at the defense table, the three lawyers were silent.  Even Patrick was too overwhelmed to speak. A tear fell from his left eye, as his thick eyeglasses became fogged up. Alan finally turned to Sam and muttered, “We are so screwed.”</p><p>Denny was the only one in the courtroom who had noticed how Clement tried to pull away when Bethany touched his hand in sympathy. He took silent note of it.</p><p>Judge Nantares turned to Bethany and said, “Will that be all, Ms. Horowitz?” She herself was a little choked up at Clement’s testimony, but tried to hide it. </p><p>Bethany looked up at the judge with a confident gaze. “The plaintiff rests, Your Honor.” She sat down next to Bloch, folding her hands in her lap. Bloch smiled at her sideways, as if to praise her for a good performance.</p><p>The judge now turned toward the defense table. “Mr. Kimmel, usually at this time, I would let you begin your cross-examination. But considering the special circumstances of our witness and the lateness of the hour, I’m going to propose that we adjourn court for today. Today is Friday, so I recommend that we all reconvene on Monday. Is such in accordance with the witness’ health concerns?”</p><p>Bethany was taken aback by the request. She obviously expected Sam’s team to be forced into going immediately into the cross-examination stage. She hesitated for a moment. “With all due respect, Your Honor, I believe that it would be in Mr. Clements’ best interests if we didn’t prolong the procedure longer than necessary.”</p><p>Judge Nantares was unperturbed in her line of reasoning.  “Considering the extraordinary nature of this case, I think that it would be appropriate to hear directly from the witness.” She turned to him sympathetically. “Mr. Clement, you appear to be tired. Would you feel more comfortable if we all go home now and come back on Monday? Or would you prefer to continue? Please take your time in responding.”</p><p>Bloch sweated uncomfortably. Bethany glared at the judge, trying to hide any sign of emotion. For the first time, Clement seemed to be somewhat relieved. He avoided the sidelong glances of Bethany and Bloch, who kept trying to catch his eye. All eyes were glued to the witness box. “Mon-day,” he responded without hesitation. </p><p>The judge banged her gavel. “Adjourned till Monday. Have a nice weekend. Take care of yourself, Mr. Clement.”</p><p>The courtroom was abuzz with back-and-forth conversations between members of the jury, the media and the lawyers. Denny’s eyes remained fixed on Clement. He noticed how Judge Nantares walked over to the witness and reached out to him. She shook his hand for a moment and spoke briefly to him. Denny noticed how Clement made no effort to pull away. </p><p>Nantares then strolled casually past the defense table. She avoided Denny’s eyes and directly addressed Alan and Sam. “I cut you a break, gentlemen. You have a few days to make your case. Be careful.” She then transferred her gaze to Denny.  “I’ll be watching you.” </p><p>She walked away and Denny smiled. He turned to Alan and commented, “She wants me, Alan, in a big way.” </p><p>Alan got impatient with him. “Denny, didn’t you hear a word that Paul said? Doesn’t anything get through to you? Just keep quiet and don’t do anything.  Is that so hard to do?” Denny didn’t respond, but looked as sad as a wounded puppy. </p><p>Sam intervened. “Now, we won’t get anywhere by arguing with each other. The media is watching us right now. We need to put on a show of calmness and control.” </p><p>Paul joined them. “Those are the first sensible words that I heard all day long. We need to get out of here, away from the cameras.” He turned to Denny, with a sorrowful glance. “Denny, you know what to do.” </p><p>Denny beamed as he jumped out of his seat and raised his right arm in a gesture of jubilation. “Yes!  This is my favorite part.” He vanished into a sea of reporters, uttering “Denny Crane!  Denny Crane! Denny Crane!” The other three lawyers left quietly through a side door.   </p><p>Paul, Sam, Alan and Patrick got into the company limousine that was waiting for them at the courthouse entrance. They rode in silence. When they reached Paul’s residence, he suggested that they all meet the next day at the offices of Crane, Poole and Schmidt. They agreed. Paul left and the limo drove on. Patrick’s stop was next.</p><p>“Don’t give up, Paddy. This is far from over,” Sam reassured him. Patrick nodded and shook hands respectfully with Sam. </p><p>Alan gave the young man a comforting hug. “Don’t worry, we’ll get through this.” Patrick got out of the car and waved to them as it drove away. </p><p>Alan and Sam briefly talked legal strategy, but they were unable to settle on a line of defense. They lapsed into silence as they reached Alan’s residence. Alan left and shook Sam’s hand. “Tomorrow,” Alan said. </p><p>“Tomorrow,” Sam echoed. </p><p>The chauffeur rode on to Sam’s hotel. He appropriately thanked the driver for the ride and then closed the door to the car and watched it pull away. When Sam Kimmel reached his room, he didn’t bother to turn on the lights. He looked silently out the window, put his hands in his pockets and sighed sadly to himself.</p><p>Slowly, he turned on the lamp on the night table. He reached out to the telephone and dialed a few numbers. “Operator. Long distance, please. Pleasanton, California.” A few moments later, he dialed a phone number. </p><p>There was a female voice on the other end. “Hi, honey. How are you doing? Still getting the headaches? Did you take your meds?  All right, remember to get them refilled. It’s always good to make sure that you have extra. Don’t wait till the last minute. How am I doing? Oh, don’t worry. Everything is fine. The case? Oh, we’re doing great. Denny and his guys are doing just great over here. Should have it all wrapped up soon.</p><p>“How are the grandkids? That’s good. Yes, I know it’s late and that they’re asleep. Tell them grandpa called last night and that he misses them.</p><p>“Chris, don’t worry. Everything is fine. I just wanted to hear your voice. I’ll be home soon. Miss you so much. I love you, you know.” </p><p>A moment later he hung up. He walked over to the window again and just looked out silently.  A tear came to his eye.</p><p>PART SEVEN:</p><p>The next day was Saturday. It was one o’clock in the afternoon. Paul and Alan were in the conference room, reading the latest volumes of legal decisions. Paul looked up. “I’m almost afraid to ask, but where’s Denny?”        </p><p>Alan sighed. “I asked Denny to meet with Patrick and do what was necessary to keep his spirits up. That’s one thing that Denny is good for. We’re all going to meet up later at Sam’s hotel room.”</p><p>“Speaking of which, where is Sam?” Paul inquired. </p><p>“He’s in Shirley’s office. They’re researching the contracts. They should be finished soon.”</p><p>The office of Shirley Schmidt was a mess. Legal documents were arrayed in disorder on her desk. Sam sat in an easy chair in a side corner. There was a textbook in his hand. Shirley looked through some computer printouts.</p><p>Shirley looked up. “<em>Smith v. Jones 1966</em>. That might establish some type of precedent.”          </p><p>Sam got up and paced around restlessly. “That would make sense if we were going on straight facts. But this case goes deeper than that. We’re dealing with a sympathetic witness that we can’t even touch. Bethany’s got that jury in her pocket, Shirley. I saw their faces.”</p><p>Shirley laughed. Sam looked at her quizzically and raised one eyebrow. “I’m sorry, Sam. It’s just that for a moment you reminded me of the good old days. You were just a bright kid from Harvard, who had fire in his belly. You had the spirit of a Supreme Court judge as you argued in moot court. You and Denny used to go at it, when you role-played adversarial counsel. You both were brilliant.”  </p><p>“Ms. Schmidt, I hardly think of this as a laughing matter,” he said in an overly formal tone. </p><p>Shirley laughed again. “I’m sorry, Sam.” She paused for a moment. “You know, Sam, I would have said ‘yes’ if you would have asked me.” There was almost a note of sadness in her voice.</p><p>Sam almost laughed. “You knew that I couldn’t get the nerve up to ask you out?”</p><p>Shirley shook her head. “A woman knows these things, Sam. If Denny didn’t fix you up with Christine, I would have asked you out myself. Maybe he threw Chrissy at you because he knew that. How is she, anyway? The last I heard, she was working at San Francisco General as an Administrative Nurse.”  </p><p>Sam scratched his chin and measured his words carefully.  “She-she is no longer working there, Shirley. She decided to-to-to retire early.” Sam seemed downright uncomfortable as he awkwardly shifted his weight. </p><p>Shirley picked up on his reaction. “Sam, something’s wrong.  What’s going on?” Her voice conveyed deep concern. </p><p>Sam hesitated. “It’s nothing, Shirley. It’s really nothing.”</p><p>Shirley continued. “Sam, please! I’ve known you long enough to know that all is not well. Please let me help.”</p><p>Sam took off his glasses, wiped his brow and replaced them on the bridge of his nose. He turned intently to Shirley. “It’s Chrissy. The truth is that-” </p><p>There was a knock on her door. “Excuse me, Sam. We’ll get back to this later, I promise.” She gave Sam a reassuring pat on the shoulder as she walked to the door. She opened it. Paul and Alan entered unceremoniously, arguing incomprehensibly about something or other. </p><p>“Gentlemen, gentlemen!” Shirley yelled. “What the heck is going on here? I was having a private meeting with Mr. Kimmel here.”</p><p>Paul threw a letter on the table for Shirley to examine. “A messenger came with an offer from the plaintiff.” </p><p>Alan shook his head forcefully. “An offer! Why didn’t she just go ahead and ask us to roll over and die, Paul?! You surely can’t be serious if you want us to advise Patrick to accept this!”</p><p>Shirley put a finger to her lips to indicate that she needed silence to concentrate. She put on her reading glasses and read the note. “Oh, dear!” was all that she could say. </p><p>After a long moment had passed, Sam asked the obvious question.  “Okay, people, how painful is this going to be?”</p><p>Shirley answered slowly. “Unimount is willing to drop all charges, subject to the following conditions:</p><ol>
<li>Patrick Thomason agrees to surrender all of his manuscripts to Bernard Bloch and his representatives. He would be entitled to no compensation for his compliance.</li>
<li>Any future manuscripts written by Patrick Thomason would automatically become the property of Unimount and would be omitted from open market competitive bidding. Patrick Thomason would receive a check for each quarterly profit percentage at a rate to be determined by Unimount.</li>
<li>Any and all contracts signed between Unimount and Mr. Thomason are fully binding on the defendant but voidable at all points in time by the plaintiff.</li>
<li>90% of the pre-earned profits from the past contract for work sold under the Parallax agreement will be given to Unimount publications.</li>
<li>Any non-compliance with such terms will incur a re-instatement of the charges, along with the agreement to pay all future costs of litigation.</li>
<li>Offer expires on Sunday evening, so acceptance must be received before time and date of expiration. Otherwise, the case will go to trial as scheduled.”</li>
</ol><p>Shirley put down the paper on her desk, under a small paperweight shaped like the scales of justice. As if on cue, the scales shifted mysteriously to one side. “The scales don’t always balance, gentlemen. It’s a crappy offer, but I must admit that we don’t have much to go on, right now.”</p><p>Alan launched right into a ranting speech. “Shirley, don’t you understand that the term ‘crappy’ doesn’t begin to describe the absurdity of this whole issue! This is an insult to our client and all young authors like him! We can’t let this happen! We have to do something!” </p><p>Sam took a more practical approach. He took a calculator out of his pocket and punched in a few figures. “Well, leaving emotions out of the equation, I punched in a few figures to see the financial implications here. I approximated Patrick’s projected future earnings in the best case scenario under Unimount’s proposal, as compared with his contract with Parallax, and he’ll be taking a substantial loss. There would be no way that he would be able to leave the projects, let alone make a career out of writing. At best, he could use his earnings as income on the side, but there’s no way that he’d be able to earn a living from it.”</p><p>Alan continued loudly. “Oh, really? Could that be because those corporate bastards are holding him back? They’ll be legally able to continue to do so until the end of time and there’ll be nothing that we can do to stop them!”</p><p>Paul held up his hands.  “Gentlemen! Gentlemen! Let’s get back down to earth! As demeaning as this offer might be, there is no other option at this point. Assuming that we go to court and we lose, which is inevitable at this point, our client’s writing career will be doomed. No other publishing house would touch him if the verdict falls against him.”</p><p>Shirley agreed. “I hate to say it, but Paul’s right. The media is watching every move that we make. All that they would understand is what is on the surface: ‘Win, lose or settle.’  That’s the bottom line as far as they’re concerned. A settlement would be the most agreeable way of handling the issue. We have no obligation to disclose the terms. There is no shame in settling, but a loss could generate a lot of bad publicity for us. Taking the settlement is probably the least painful way of getting this case out of the way.” </p><p>Alan kept silent. Sam responded slowly. “We’ll present the offer to Patrick, when we see him later. Denny will bring him by my hotel later this evening and I’ll recommend that he sign the papers.”</p><p>Alan responded with a quick smile. “At least the kid will have one good night on the town before he has to face the harsh realities of the real world.”</p><p>********</p><p>At the edge of the downtown sector of the Northern suburbs was one of the residences of Dennis Crane, Attorney at Law. The floors were tastefully carpeted. The rooms were painted golden yellow and the expensive furniture was well arranged. </p><p>Patrick wandered around joyfully, like a kid in a toy shop for the first time. Denny sat on the sofa, sipping a glass of wine. </p><p>“Wow, Mr. Crane, this place is beautiful! You have everything here.” Patrick wandered over to the big screen TV set. “Where’s the antenna?”</p><p>Denny tried to be patient. “Kid, Denny Crane does not use antennas.”</p><p>The boy continued to look amazed. “Mr. Crane, I never saw a place like this, not in my wildest dreams.”</p><p>Denny waved his hand in a gesture of dismissal. “Paddy, you ain’t seen nothing yet. This is actually my father’s place. My own residence is further uptown.  First class, all the way.”</p><p>Patrick shook his head.  “Your father must have been a great parent to leave you this beautiful home.” </p><p>Denny put down his glass of wine, walked over to Patrick and faced him directly. “Kid, I don’t remember many things these days, but one thing that I can’t forget is this: My father was a workaholic bastard. He worked for the state prosecutor’s office and he wanted-no, demanded, damn it, that I follow in his footsteps. I was never good enough for him.”</p><p>He plopped down on the sofa. Patrick sat down next to him.  “Well, at least you got to know your father. I never got to know my old man. According to Mom, when I was two years old Dad went to take out the garbage and he never came back.”</p><p>There was an awkward moment of silence. Denny sat up and patted Patrick on the knee. “You know what? Let’s not talk about this stuff. Life is depressing enough. Let’s do something to cheer ourselves up. My entire video and DVD collection is over there.  Pick out whatever you want and I’ll make some popcorn.” Denny pointed to a side wall that had a video display case. “I got everything, Paddy boy. Porn, adventure, fantasy, sci-fi, porn, comedy, drama-did I mention porn?”</p><p>Patrick walked over to the case, while Denny warmed up the popcorn maker. The boy marveled over all that he saw. “Wow! This is amazing, Mr. Crane. I have never seen anything like this.”  Carefully, the young man picked out an old, dusty video tape.  “I think I found what I would like to watch. That is, of course, if it’s okay with you, Mr. Crane.”            </p><p>“Sure, my boy. I can guess what you picked out: the full DVD collection of DDD, volumes one, two and three.”</p><p>“DDD?” Patrick seemed puzzled.</p><p>“You really are out of it. Kid, you need to be schooled by DDD.  I should take you under my wing. Do I have to spell it out for you? DDD-‘<em>Debbie Does Dallas</em>.’” </p><p>Patrick still didn’t understand. “A movie about a young girl who visits Texas? Is it like <em>Pollyanna</em>?”</p><p>Denny’s eyes rolled toward the ceiling. “Not exactly, son. Oh, boy, do I have a lot to teach you.” He put his arm around the boy affectionately.</p><p>Patrick looked up at the lawyer. “Mr. Crane? Do you have any children of your own?”</p><p>Denny smiled. “Yes, I have a son. Well, actually, I knew his mother. His father was...someone else. But I took a liking to the kid, anyway. I supported him, paid his law school tuition. So, he was my son, without actually being my son. It’s confusing. Let’s not worry about it now. Let’s see the movie that you picked out for us.” </p><p>Patrick slowly handed Denny the dusty video. “I thought that this would be appropriate for us to watch, under the circumstances. It’s Peter Clement’s first movie, before he become a Sci-Fi icon. It’s a cowboy movie called <em>Wagon Train Under The Stars.</em>”</p><p>Denny took the dusty video and studied it closely. “Oh, yes, I remember this one. Took my girlfriend to see it during my senior year at law school, at the local drive-in theatre.”</p><p>Patrick looked puzzled. “Drive-in theatre? What’s a drive-in theatre?"</p><p>Denny stared at the younger man in astonishment. “You’ve never been to a drive-in? You’ve never had the experience of unhooking a young girl’s bra beneath the glow of the movie screen, in the privacy of your car? Turning down the volume of the speaker so that you could whisper in her ear?”</p><p>“But I don’t understand, Mr. Crane. How could we hear the movie if I turn down the volume?”</p><p>Denny blew air through his lips like a heated horse. “You’re missing the point, son.” He realized that he wasn’t getting through to him and said, “Let’s get back to this later. It’s movie time now.” </p><p>Denny turned on the TV via remote control. Patrick marveled at all the buttons, as the wide screen came to life. An aging, overweight actor was advertising for Price Line. Denny immediately turned down the volume and inserted the videotape into the built-in VCR.</p><p>“Don’t you like Price Line, Mr. Crane?”</p><p>Denny harrumphed, “I only fly first class, my boy.” </p><p>The tape started and the two men stared at the screen silently.  The opening credits came on. Patrick’s eyes lit up. “Oh, wow!  Marge Berry plays the love interest in this movie. You know that she and Mr. Clement later married in real life?”</p><p>Denny seemed sincerely interested. “I never knew that.  Actually, I was wondering why a sexy chick like that seemed to vanish from the big screen after old Pete finished his last Western.” </p><p>Patrick looked sad. “I read in Nathan Lenard’s biography that she couldn’t work after they broke up. Her heart was broken. She was sad and depressed. When Mr. Clement signed with Unimount, they took him away from her with their harsh demands of his time and career. She found work as a night club singer; she was never at a need for work, but always lonely. Her daughter was not very happy either. She had plenty of good things in her life to be proud of, but she always missed her Dad.” </p><p>Denny put the movie on pause. “Nathan Lenard? Nathan Lenard? I heard that name somewhere. Who was he and how did he come to know Peter Clement?”</p><p>Patrick sighed before answering. “Nate Lenard and Peter Clement met on the screen of their first big Western together. Nate’s career was just getting started and he made fast friends with the budding young star, Peter Clement. They did five films together. The movie company could not find a place for Nate and made it clear that this would be his last movie.  Watch his big death scene near the end of the movie and you’ll understand.” </p><p>Denny nodded in interest. He pressed the “Play” button. They sat down on the sofa and watched in complete silence, taking in every detail. For the first time in years, Denny took a healthy interest in a movie that did not feature sex, violence or perverse humor.  </p><p>It was a sad western, about a man who was forced to grow up too quickly; a poor farm hand from Kansas, brought up in a dysfunctional family with a drunken dad and an enabling mom.  It could have been filmed in modern times and still have the same social relevance. The hero left home to find his own way when he was only sixteen. When he was twenty, he joined a wagon train to California during the Gold Rush. While on the road, he met another man who was more of an intellectual type, who had similar problems with difficult parents. He and his sister, who was a school teacher, had also left home to seek their fortunes out west. Every night they would sit around the campfire under the stars with the other settlers, swapping stories and singing along with the guitar player. The second young man introduced his new friend to his sister, and the two fell in love. </p><p>They all settled in San Francisco. The hero became a blacksmith and established himself, with his best friend, wife and young daughter. They didn’t seem to notice, however, that there was a gradual influx of corruption affecting all aspects of the town’s livelihood. Nobody did anything about it. Even the law turned a blind eye to the situation. The hero and his best friend tried to stay out of trouble, but later they were forced into a confrontation. It seemed that the blacksmith’s wife and daughter were harassed and treated very disrespectfully by the local cowboys, who were really a gang of rustlers. It was then that our heroes strapped on their gun belts and challenged the leader and his sidekick to a showdown. </p><p>The gunfight lasted for a good five minutes. Both of the bad guys bit the dust. But, sadly, the blacksmith’s best friend went down with a bullet that hit him in the chest, right near the heart. He was bleeding profusely, while the sad, heartbroken blacksmith held his best friend’s head in his hands to try to comfort him in his last moments of life. </p><p>“Stop it right there!” Patrick said. Denny pushed the “Pause” button. “See, Mr. Crane, here is the part that I was talking about. The production company knew that they wouldn’t sign Mr. Lenard to another contract, so they killed off his character.  So sad, isn’t it?”</p><p>Denny was focusing on something else. “That expression on his face...It’s all coming back to me, Patrick. Yes, it all makes sense. That was the same expression that Mr. Clement gave me when I saw him in the courtroom. His best friend being taken away from him. And...he remembered me. His memory was better than mine. You see, Paddy, when I was much younger, I actually met him in person on the set of one of his westerns, back in 1966. My father was prosecuting a class action suit, which involved Clement’s production company. I wandered about the lot as the lawyers did their business. I saw him as he was talking with his friend, Nate Lenard. He offered me his autograph and grasped my hand to shake it. He looked sad, though. He must have found out that Nate’s contract was not being renewed. He looked at me in the same way in the courtroom as well. Don’t you see, my boy, he remembers me! He knows what’s going on, Paddy. We could reach him. There is still hope!”</p><p>Patrick smiled optimistically. “You mean that we could actually win, Mr. Crane?”</p><p>Denny laughed. “Patrick, not only will we win, but we’re going into that courtroom and we’re going to make history!”          </p><p>********</p><p>Sam Kimmel’s hotel room was extremely quiet. Alan and Sam  wordlessly reviewed documents at the desk. Alan was uncomfortable with long silences, so he put in a word. “Well, Paul should be here soon. He’ll try to take one more shot at talking to Ms. Horror Witch, and re-negotiating one or two of the contractual terms.”</p><p>Sam smiled slightly. “Alan, don’t you mean Ms. Horowitz?”   </p><p>Alan returned the smile. “Excuse me, Freudian Slip.” </p><p>Sam caught the irony. “No doubt one that was fully intended.  Reminds me of one of my old law school professors. He used several of those left-handed puns during his lectures. Have you ever heard of Professor Christopher Chang?”</p><p>Alan nodded. “Yes, I have. Memories of which are not too fond, may I add. I had to read one or two of his articles for my law school dissertation. It was painful. Chang was an old war horse, literally. He fought in WW Two, as he called it, lost an eye, and wore a leather eye patch with a skull and crossbones on it as a symbol of his ‘bravery’ in front of his students. Those are the stories that I heard, anyway. Am I right?”</p><p>Sam sighed. “Yes, in addition to the fact that Chang had the annoying habit of constantly quoting Shakespeare, insisting that his interpretation was the only one which was correct.”</p><p>“Must have been difficult being a part of his class.”</p><p>Sam looked up with a mischievous glance. “It was in Chang’s Constitutional Law class that I first became friends with Denny Crane. You see, up till that time, Denny and I knew of each other, but didn’t like one another at all. We argued back and forth on different sides of the same issue in Common Law Moot court, time after time. We certainly attracted a lot of attention. The school newspaper wrote about us on various occasions. We were both complete opposites. Denny’s style was so ‘out there,’ but nonetheless effective. I had a head for unbending facts and logic. When we went up against each other, the auditorium was full. Those were the days.” Sam sighed nostalgically.</p><p>“Anyway, Chang liked neither of us. He didn’t like Denny for just being Denny. He didn’t like me because I was the only student who had the audacity to correct the good professor in front of the entire class. To Chang, the issue was a matter of honor. So, to get back at both of us, he paired us together. He came up with an assignment in which he put students into pairs. They were to work together on an essay, in which they had to prove a certain point. The best essay, if it was good enough, would be submitted for publication to a popular Massachusetts news journal. And don’t you know that Chang gave us the most difficult assignment of all?!”</p><p>Alan was fully interested. “So, what happened?”</p><p>Sam smiled. “Well, mind you, the year was 1960. The world was quite different back then and-” The doorbell rang. “That must be Paul. We’ll continue this later.” Sam got up to answer the door. Alan, slightly disappointed, went back to his papers.</p><p>Paul came into the room, without greeting or ceremony. He carried a briefcase full of papers, which he plopped down on Sam’s bed.           </p><p>Alan spoke first. “Well, were you successful in your meeting with Bethany?”    </p><p>Paul nodded slowly and sighed. “Yes, but only to a very limited extent. Trying to get Ms. Horowitz to agree to that added stipulation about no future litigation proceedings against our client was like pulling teeth.”</p><p>Sam patted Paul on the back. “You did well, Paul. What do you think, Alan?”</p><p>Alan Shore was now looking out the window, his collar unbuttoned, his expression somber. “Gentlemen, you both know what I think. I refuse to discuss the matter any further.” </p><p>Paul stepped closer to Alan to comfort him. “Have you spoken to your friend in the publishing business, Alan?”</p><p>Alan turned toward him, smiled slightly. “Yes, I have, as a matter of fact. Jerry helped put me in touch with him. He agreed to talk to Patrick and review his work. In effect, he could help him to avoid this mess from happening again.” </p><p>Sam turned to Paul. “Oh, Paul, there is a matter of little consequence that I might need your help with. I need an article from a certain magazine that is not in print anymore. Nothing pertaining to the case, just something personal. Actually, something that I would like to share with my wife. The November 1<sup>st</sup> 1960 issue of the <em>Bostonian Herald</em>. Denny says that your firm’s library holds onto everything. I was just wondering if—"</p><p>Paul cut him off with uncharacteristic brusqueness, possibly due to fatigue. “Mr. Kimmel, Crane, Poole and Schmidt’s library resources are only available to employees of Crane, Poole and Schmidt. Since you do not work for us, when this trial is over, you will have no more business here. Therefore, my answer is an unequivocal ‘no.’”</p><p>Sam looked disappointed. “I understand, Paul.”</p><p>There was a moment of silence, as such was an awkward moment for everyone. Paul was the first to speak. “We all did the best that we could. All we need is for Denny to get back here with Mr. Thomason and we’ll sign the papers.”</p><p>Just then, there was a loud commotion outside in the hallway.  Somebody was yelling, “Yippy-yi-yo-ki-yay!” to the accompaniment of loud clip-clops that sounded like a horse’s hooves. </p><p>“That will be Denny,” said Paul with a sigh.</p><p>“Of course it is,” Sam said with a grin.</p><p>“Really?” said Alan. “How do you know it’s not just some kid playing horsey?”</p><p>“Because Denny’s always been just a big kid at heart.” Sam went to the door and opened it. Denny Crane stood outside, wearing a big, white ten-gallon hat and a sheriff’s badge on a fringed leather vest, over a white Western shirt and black jeans with cowboy boots. Behind him stood Patrick Thomason, dressed in a similar outfit. His badge said “Deputy”.</p><p>“Well, don’t just stand there, Denny. Come in.” Sam waved him inside. </p><p>“Get along, little dogie,” Alan said as he beckoned him to come inside.</p><p>Denny picked up the reins of an imaginary horse and trotted inside, followed closely by Patrick, who banged a pair of coconut shells together to imitate the clip-clop of a horse’s hooves. He wore a big backpack that seemed very full. They both went straight to the minibar, where Denny said “Whoa!” and pulled his imaginary steed to a stop. Patrick stopped banging the coconuts and Denny whipped off his white hat and announced, “Gentlemen, the cavalry is here!”</p><p>Paul rolled his eyes at the ceiling. “On that note, I must be going. See you in court on Monday, gentlemen. And Denny,” he added dryly. He picked up his briefcase and his coat and headed for the door with as much dignity as possible. His dignity remained intact as Denny pulled a toy gun out of his belt and shot him in the rear with a rubber-tipped dart. Paul flinched briefly, reached around and pulled the annoying appendage off of his butt, threw it aside with a look of disgust and stormed out the door. </p><p>Alan followed him out, changing the setting on the lock to ‘open’ as he closed the door. “Paul, why were you so hard on Sam before? His request was not unreasonable. We have copies of that magazine dating back to the 50’s. What’s the problem?”</p><p>Paul sighed. “I have little tolerance for poor judgment, Mr. Shore.”</p><p>Alan looked puzzled. “Poor judgment?” </p><p>Paul nodded. “Yes, extremely poor judgment. Samuel Kimmel is one of the five greatest lawyers that I have ever seen litigate.  He has the brains to be one of the best, but he’ll never reach his full potential if he stays where he is right now. The man is wasting his talent, Alan. The cut-throat firm that he’s working for will never make him a partner. They have no regard for age and experience. They’re a group of young kids, whose senior partner is 46. That’s why they keep a 72-year-old brilliant litigator like Sam as an associate, running half way around the country, wearing himself down. They’re hoping that he’ll burn himself out and retire, or that he’ll screw up really big and they’ll have an excuse for firing him and not have to pay him a pension.”</p><p>Alan looked genuinely concerned. “If you know that to be true, Paul, then why didn’t you offer him a job?  We would certainly appreciate his skills and experience here.”</p><p>Paul sighed. “Mr. Shore, I offered him a job working for us no less than five times. Each time he turned me down. It’s a shame, really. If he had the good sense to accept our offer, he could have made partner a long time ago. He would have been paid a heck of a lot more money than what he’s getting in that sweat shop that he’s working for. Not to mention, he’d be treated with the respect that he deserves.” </p><p>“You don’t say?” Alan wrinkled his brow.   </p><p>Paul arranged his coat and put it on. He looked at his watch.  “Listen, I’m running late. I’ll see you on Monday.”  He quickly ran to the elevator door.   </p><p>Allan thoughtfully re-entered the hotel room. Denny and Patrick were still talking about the former’s shooting expertise. Patrick stared in awe at Denny. “Wow, you’re amazing, Mr. Crane!  Perfect shot the first time!”</p><p>“I’ve had a lot of practice, son,” Denny said smugly as he reached for the bourbon in the minibar. </p><p>“Speaking of pains in the ass,” Alan said, “we have some unpleasant business to discuss here.”</p><p>“Have no fear, Sheriff Crane is here! And his sidekick, Deputy Paddy,” Denny added. </p><p>Sam sighed. “Denny, in all seriousness, I don’t think even the Lone Ranger could save this one.”</p><p>“Ah, who cares about a guy who wears a mask and hangs out with an Injun, anyway?” Denny took a slug of bourbon. “I’ve always thought that those two were a little too close. I mean, what does ‘Kemosabe’ really mean, anyway?”</p><p>Sam became thoughtful. “As I recall, ‘Kemosabe’ could have a double meaning. It could be interpreted as either ‘best friend’ or ‘friend and lover’.”</p><p>Denny waved his friend off with a quick gesture of ‘whatever,’ and started unpacking his and Patrick’s backpacks. “Regardless, Paddy and I have been brainstorming on this plan for the last six hours. It’s brilliant, Alan.” He took out two scripted copies that resembled new manuscripts of a play. He handed Sam and Alan their personal copies. “Don’t you see? Peter Clement knows what’s going on. He still remembers. The key to getting to him is all in these pages,” he said, pointing to the manuscript. </p><p>Alan and Sam read carefully. Alan was the first to comment.  “Denny, this is brilliant! Absolutely brilliant!  What do you think, Sam?”</p><p>Slowly, a smile emerged on Sam’s face. Before he could answer, the hotel phone rang. “Excuse me, gentlemen.” He put the script down and walked across the room to answer the telephone.</p><p>“Hello, Sam Kimmel. Chrissy?  Hello, sweetheart. You sound worried. The drug plan? What the-? Have you called Casey at the firm, he’s in charge-doesn’t work on Saturdays? Since when? A devout Catholic, observing the Jewish Sabbath? That stinks like yesterday’s unwashed socks. What about Alamo? Out of the country? How convenient!” Sam swore incomprehensibly in Yiddish. “When I get back, those two will be sorry. Oh boy, will they be sorry! What about the pharmacist? We’ve known him for years, Chrissy. He won’t give us a break until the firm files the papers? Listen, Chrissy, don’t worry. I’ll take care of everything. In the meantime, do you have the ATM card for our joint account? My love, I don’t want to hear you talk that way! You need the medicine and you need it now. Take the money out and we’ll worry about it later. Darling, please! Don’t worry about me. I’ll find a way to get home. Now promise me that you’ll take the money and get your medicine. Okay, speak to you later.  Love you.” He slowly hung up the phone. </p><p>Alan, who had been listening to Denny with only half an ear after his other ear had been caught by Sam’s one-sided conversation, asked “Everything okay, Sam?” Denny was so busy talking to Patrick, he hadn’t even heard the phone ring. </p><p>Sam responded quickly. “Yes, a minor problem with my firm. I will straighten it out later, on my own time.” His voice sounded tense, containing a brief amount of highly restrained anger. </p><p>Denny continued, as if nothing happened. “So guys, here’s what I’m thinking: The four of us will go into the courtroom with this script, dressed in full uniform, and we’ll-”</p><p>Sam quickly came forward to face Denny eye to eye. “Will you grow up already, Denny? This is not all about you and your childish fantasies! You don’t realistically believe that we could pull this off, do you?” </p><p>Denny looked hurt. “Hey, I’m Denny Crane. Denny Crane can do anything. You know that. What’s the matter with you, Sam?”</p><p>“What you are is an egotistical ass, who is too proud to admit that his best days are behind him. Grow up, already!”</p><p>Alan intervened to get between them. “How dare you talk to my best friend like that?”</p><p>The three argued for about five minutes, cross-conversing unintelligibly. Poor Patrick stood off to the side, first confused, then slowly drew up a certain resolve about what needed to be done. He took another gun out of his vest. It was a cap pistol, which he fired into the air. The three men fell silent when they heard the shot fired.</p><p>“Quiet!” Patrick demanded. “Denny is my lawyer now! We will do everything according to the script and I don’t want to hear another word about it!” </p><p>All three admired the young man’s spirit. All three were too stunned to utter a single word. Finally, Denny spoke up. “Well, you heard our client. So, who is with us?” </p><p>Alan came forward. “I’m with you, Denny. Sam?” </p><p>“No! No! No!” Sam exploded angrily. “Every man has limits and I have reached mine! It was a mistake coming over here. I might have known that you could never understand. Leave me alone!”  He stormed out on the terrace.   </p><p>Alan turned to Denny and Patrick. “Don’t worry, I’ll speak to him.” Slowly, Alan turned to follow Sam to the outer terrace. Once outside, he closed the door behind them for privacy. “Sam, what’s wrong?” he asked with great concern. “Why are you so upset? You should be used to Denny’s eccentricities by now.”  </p><p>Sam stood by the iron balcony clutching the wooden railing with both hands, his dark eyes hooded like a hawk’s as he stared out into the growing darkness. The weak sun was already starting to set and the ominous gray clouds gathering above them threatened to pour down rain at any minute. “Personal problems,” he muttered. “I shouldn’t allow them to interfere with my work.”</p><p>“Even lawyers have personal lives outside of the office,” Alan said mildly. “The trick is to keep your personal and professional lives separate.” Sam muttered something to himself. “What was that?” asked Alan.  “I’m afraid I didn’t hear you clearly.”</p><p>“I said sometimes the professional interferes with the personal. Like when your so-called associates keep pulling the rug out from under you just when you need their support.” </p><p>“Really?” Alan cocked his head to one side as he regarded him curiously. “Does this have anything to do with your wife’s illness?” </p><p>Sam turned around so fast he almost knocked him down. He got right into the younger man’s face as he demanded, “What do you know about my wife?”\</p><p>Alan retreated a couple of steps, looking momentarily alarmed before regaining his customary careless attitude. “Nothing but what I couldn’t help overhearing. I gathered that your wife is very ill and is having difficulty obtaining her medication through your medical plan, and your colleagues, who should be assisting her in your absence, are going out of their way to be out of the way when she needs their help.” </p><p>Sam caught his breath and let it out in a heavy sigh. “Yes, damn it!” He drew closer to Alan to speak in a lower tone of voice. “Listen, Alan, I must have your word that Denny will know nothing about what I am about to tell you. He and Chrissy were very close at one time and she does not want him to know anything about our problem. Do I make myself clear?”</p><p><br/>Alan nodded. “You have my word, Sam. Denny will never know.”</p><p>Sam drew a breath and started slowly. “When I first graduated law school, I started to work at Sarek and Grayson. Both were friends of old law professors at Harvard. My first ten years were productive and enjoyable. But both named partners were getting older. One died and the other retired. Before Alice Grayson retired, she advised me to get out while I could. She saw the writing on the wall. Those who were poised to take over after her were nothing like old Marcus Sarek. They were a group of young hotshots who had no regard for someone like me, someone older and experienced. They were into a youth movement. Those who were hired fresh out of law school were put on the fast track to a partnership. I was left out in the cold.”</p><p>Alan shook his head angrily and interrupted. “Well, for Pete’s sake, Sam, why did you stay with them?”</p><p>Sam put his hand under his chin and rested his arm on the balcony rail. “Because just when I got the sense of what was going on, Chrissy got sick. She was diagnosed with an incurable type of cancer. However, the good news was that the disease could be prevented from spreading through a highly specialized medication and treatment program. She is doing remarkably well and is expected to live a normal life, providing that she continues with the program. Unfortunately, though, such treatment is extremely expensive, and offered only at one specific West Coast hospital known as Ferenginar Medical Center. Hence, the issue with the health insurance comes into play. Our facility only accepts Quorum Health Corp Insurance as an on-assignment provider. Most other firms don’t offer that particular insurance coverage. So, if I leave or get fired from my company, I’m pretty much screwed.”</p><p>Alan gently interrupted. “Considering your wife’s condition, wouldn’t the hospital let you work out a payment plan or arrange to accept some other type of insurance? You’re certainly eligible for Medicare, GHI, HIP and many other HMOs.”</p><p>Sam sighed sadly. “You see, Alan, the problem is that the health care industry has become more like a cash-oriented business.  They want their money and they want to receive it immediately, and expect payment in full. The health care providers that you just mentioned would not pay the cost according to the specifications of the Ferenginar Health Care management system.  Even with full payment from Quorum, we still have to pay a $600 co-payment for the medication, and $2,000 out of pocket for every treatment.</p><p>“That last phone call from Christine discussed a problem that she had with our pharmacist. It turns out that our newest partners were lax in filling out the insurance forms for their employees, at least where I was concerned. She’s going to have to go into our joint account to take out the necessary money for her medication refill. That would just about clean us out. I won’t have money for plane fare to go home. I’ll just have to find a cheap hotel to go to for the next two weeks until the next direct deposit check funnels through.”</p><p>Alan reached into his jacket for his checkbook. “Sam, I had no idea. I could always help you out. You should not have to be placed in such a position.”</p><p>Sam smiled. “Thank you, Alan, but I really can’t accept. Aside from my family, what am I rushing home to, anyway? A group of bosses who yell at me for every little stupid thing? A job that I hate? Grunt work that people with half my age and talent should be doing? Traveling half way around the world on a small allowance of money, to get a signature on a piece of paper which could be easily faxed over? And if I make the least little complaint to any of the supervisory partners, I’m threatened to be written up on disciplinary charges, which is the first step to dismissal. I’m getting too old for this nonsense, Alan.  I was practicing law when those young piss ants were still in their diapers, for God’s sake!” Tears came to his eyes. Alan put an arm around him and drew him close in a gesture of comfort. </p><p>Neither noticed the terrace door open and a very annoyed-looking Denny Crane standing in the doorway. “Ahem! Am I interrupting something here?” </p><p>Both men abruptly turned around and faced Denny. Sam threw his hands up in the air, turned away and looked out over the balcony.  Denny walked toward Sam, but Alan got between them. “Denny, Sam and I are not quite finished. Just go back inside, okay?”</p><p>Denny kept talking, refusing to be stopped. “Not quite finished, eh? Just like when you and Jerry were out on the terrace last year? Don’t think that I’m completely addled, Alan Shore. I remember these things!”</p><p>Alan continued to block Denny’s access to Sam. “Denny, it’s not what you think. I was just trying to reassure Sam here, nothing more. I just need a little more time, okay?” </p><p>Denny slowly walked back inside, with Alan’s arm around him.  “It better not be anything more. We’re going to talk about this later, you know!”</p><p>Alan continued to lead Denny back to the terrace doors. “Yes, yes, yes, we will talk about it. Now go back to Patrick. He can’t handle those retro-emitters all by himself, after all.” </p><p>Denny got in the last word, before re-entering the room. “Yes, you’re right. Nobody handles Denny Crane’s retro-emitter!” he said in an angry voice. He went inside and slammed the door. </p><p>Alan locked the terrace door from the outside. He turned back to Sam. “I’m sorry about that. I didn’t expect him to come out here like that.” </p><p>Sam smiled slightly. “He’s been ‘out there’ since college.  That’s what makes him so good at his work. He’s a good-hearted soul. I owe him an apology. I never should have yelled at him before. You and Denny have been friends for years. I shouldn’t have brought my problems here and gotten between you. I’m sorry for my poor judgment. I should be ashamed.”</p><p>Alan shook his head. “There is no shame in asking for help, Sam. I think that I could work with you to get you and your family through this problem. Quorum Health Care is part of the Big Nine Continuum, is it not?”</p><p>Sam nodded.  “Why yes, Quorum is ranked number seven. So, what of it?”</p><p>Alan continued, with a thoughtful look in his eye. “They all work together as a single unit. The rules that apply to one are true of all nine. Recently, I tried a case for a client who was suing National Health, Inc., which is the first corporation listed in the continuum. My client was pretty much in the same position as you are. He was working in a crappy job with a company whose conditions were so horrible that he had to quit just to protect his sanity. In reality, his bosses drove him to quit, although they would never admit to it, of course.</p><p>“Regardless, the HMO refused to cover him when he needed to go into the hospital. I represented him and successfully worked out a settlement. It turned out that National did not want to go into court. There was a clause in the contract that the three parties signed, which protected my client. So, when the smoke cleared, not only was he entitled to full hospital coverage, but he also was guaranteed ongoing medical care for the rest of his life.”</p><p>“You don’t say...” Sam pondered thoughtfully. </p><p>Alan continued. “Most likely, Quorum has signed a similar contract with you and Ferenginar Associates. Regardless, I think that I could help you to fight this thing.” </p><p>Sam smiled. “You’re a good friend, Alan. But have you considered the unpleasant possibility that if the three of us choose to follow Denny, we might all find ourselves out of work? Remember what Paul said yesterday.”   </p><p>Alan took a deep breath and paused. “I see where you’re going with this, Sam. Still, you don’t have to worry. Patrick has just made a public declaration that he chose Denny as his lawyer.  Therefore, you are effectively off the hook. I’m sure that Patrick would sign a release absolving you and your firm from any responsibility to this case. Denny and I will handle it from this point. You need not be concerned. I know how to talk to Denny. I’ll find something to tell him about why you’re not still onboard with us. I will keep my word to you.” </p><p>Sam grabbed Alan’s hand and shook it. “You’re a good friend, Alan.” </p><p>Alan smiled and started to walk back toward the room, but turned again to face Sam. “Sam, let me just leave you with one thought: If you should decide to go in with us, we will not abandon you.  I know that I wouldn’t. You know that Denny will be behind you all the way. Worst case scenario: If we lose and we all get thrown out on our asses, we’ll be back. We won’t go down without a fight.  We will land on our feet. And wherever we go, we’ll take you with us. You have options, Sam. You have friends. No matter what you choose to do, I will help you through your health care crisis, I promise. You are not alone.”</p><p>“Thank you, Alan,” Sam said thoughtfully. </p><p>Alan re-entered the room and closed the terrace door. Denny and Patrick hardly noticed him. They were fully engaged in techno-babble.</p><p>“Gentlemen,” Alan said in an official tone. “I have a touch of bad news. Sam won’t be joining us. It seems that he has some issues to resolve.”</p><p>“Wussy!” Denny mumbled.</p><p>Alan blocked the terrace door. “Denny, you need to trust me on this one. Sam needs some time to himself and his family. Now the three of us have some work to do. Patrick, are you aware that Ms. Horowitz has made you an offer? Have you seen the paper with the terms?”</p><p>Patrick produced a paper airplane and threw it at Alan. “So much for her terms!” Patrick and Denny shared a laugh while Alan opened the paper airplane. The response was written in extremely colorful language. </p><p>Alan laughed as well. “Okay, we all agree that we are not accepting the plaintiff’s offer. Now where do we go from here?”</p><p>The terrace doors sprang open. Sam came into the room with a spring in his step. “We need to kick some ass, gentlemen! That is the logical thing to do under the circumstances!” They all laughed. The four of them shared a group hug and danced around in a circle singing “Ding-Dong, the witch is dead!”, meaning Bethany, then each of them got out his copy of Denny’s script.</p><p>PART EIGHT:</p><p>Monday morning in Judge Nanteres’ courtroom, Bethany Horowitz arrived bright and early with Bernard Bloch. As the gallery filled with spectators and the media filled the back of the courtroom, she and Bloch sat at the plaintiffs’ table. </p><p>Unbeknownst to anybody else, two rather ordinary-looking men in overalls came into the courtroom as well. Jerry and Clarence tried to look inconspicuous, as they were setting up lights and little gadgets in corners of the room. To the casual observer, they were merely maintenance men going about their duties. As Bethany and Bloch walked past them, Clarence whispered to Jerry, “Oh, boy! If they knew what they were in for, they wouldn’t look so smug.” Jerry let out a nervous popping sound from his mouth as the two got down to work.      </p><p>Bloch whispered nervously to Bethany, “Ms. Horowitz, I thought for sure you would have heard from the defense by now about our very generous offer.”</p><p>Bethany gave him a sour look, but kept her mouth shut about what she thought about the “generosity” of his offer. “Oh, don’t worry, Mr. Bloch. They know that they don’t have a chance to win this thing. They’ll come around soon enough.”</p><p>********</p><p>Four men wearing black raincoats, sunglasses, fedora hats and backpacks casually entered the courthouse building. “Thank God we got here early so we could get all this stuff through Security!” muttered Denny. </p><p>Alan looked around, taking in every nook and cranny. Sam asked him what he was looking for. Alan casually responded, “I just want to remember how this place looked before Operation Prometheus. We may never see it again.”</p><p>“Oh, I’m sure we will,” said Sam cheerfully. “But we may be sitting on the other side of the witness stand.”</p><p>“Well, one thing’s for sure,” said Denny, adjusting his sunglasses with a devilish grin, “we’re going to go out with a bang!”</p><p>Patrick, whose bushy red hair had been cut into something resembling a <em>Men In Black</em> hairstyle, chimed in with, “Speaking of bangs, is everybody’s taser gun fully charged?”</p><p>The four men all stepped to one side and checked inside their raincoats. Denny said, “Check!”</p><p>Alan said, “Check!”</p><p>Sam said, “Check!”</p><p>Finally Patrick said, “Check!”</p><p>Denny then said, “Let us proceed, gentlemen.” All four of them headed toward the nearest elevator. </p><p>********</p><p>Paul Lewiston, who was seated in the front row of the gallery, was already getting fidgety. For the umpteenth time, he called Alan’s cell phone, but was transferred to voice mail again. He snapped his phone shut and muttered, “Damn it, Alan, what are you up to?  I have a bad feeling about this...”</p><p>Through the handicapped accessible doorway, Peter Clement was wheeled in by his nurse. He was dressed in a style resembling his captain’s uniform on the <em>Galaxy Guards </em>TV series, black slacks and a yellow tunic with a Nehru collar. He deliberately avoided eye contact with Bloch and Bethany, who were waving to him. Instead, he signaled his nurse to turn his wheelchair toward the defense table where Denny and Alan would be sitting. Bethany worried about Mr. Clement’s lack of attention. She went over to the nurse and whispered to her, “Is he okay?”</p><p>The nurse gave her a scornful look. “Oh yes, he knows what he has to say.” She left the rest of her sentence unsaid: “But he doesn’t like it.” She just tended to her patient like she was paid to do. The physical therapist hovered over Clement, gesturing to Bethany that she shouldn’t get too close to him.  Bethany tried not to show how worried she was as she gave her client a reassuring smile. </p><p>Meanwhile, the elevator doors opened and the four conspirators emerged. They were observed by a reporter as they walked into a side room. The reporter, who was waiting for his cameraman to finish setting up, wondered idly what those characters were up to. One looked a lot like Denny Crane. He took out his cell phone and called one of his colleagues in the courtroom.</p><p>This colleague of his, a pert, pretty blonde who was more intelligent than she looked, answered her cell phone with a cheery “Hello?” Followed by “They did what? Uh-huh...uh-huh.  Oh, boy, this is going to be interesting.” With a laugh, she turned to Paul, not knowing who he was, and remarked, “Well, it looks like Denny Crane’s up to his old tricks again.”</p><p>“You don’t say,” said Paul casually as he clenched his fists in his lap. “Would you be so kind as to elaborate, Miss-I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name?”</p><p>“Corey Kater, Channel 8 Network News. My associate, Phil Hanson, just saw four men in raincoats come out of the elevator and go straight into an anteroom. One of them looked just like Denny Crane. Now he’s hearing strange noises coming from that room.”</p><p>“Really? What kind of noises?”</p><p>“He says it sounds just like the taser guns they used to use on <em>Galaxy Guards</em>. He was a huge fan back when it was on the air, and he’s familiar with all their sound effects.”</p><p>“Oh, really?” said Paul. He got up slowly and headed for the door, intending to make some sound effects of his own. But he was promptly intercepted by Clarence and Jerry, who quickly blocked his way. </p><p>“Oh, Mr. Lewiston, how nice to see you here today!” said Clarence cheerfully as Jerry nervously purred beside him.</p><p>“Gentlemen, get out of my way,” Paul said ominously.</p><p>“No, you should sit down and relax, sir,” Clarence told him as he and Jerry each took him by an arm and tried to guide him gently but firmly back to his seat.</p><p>“Let go of me!” Paul told them through clenched teeth. “I know what you’re trying to do, but it’s not going to work. Whatever Denny is up to, I intend to nip it in the bud!”</p><p>Bernard Bloch glanced up at that moment, saw what was going on at the front of the courtroom and whispered to Bethany, “Why are those janitors holding on to Mr. Lewiston?”</p><p>Bethany, who recognized Clarence and Jerry, for the first time began to feel worried. “I think we might have a problem, sir,” she said slowly to her client. Right after she said this, the bailiff entered.</p><p>“All rise! Court is in session!” the bald-headed bailiff declared. </p><p>“Thank God!” a relieved Jerry and Clarence both said at the same time. They released Paul and scurried away like scared mice, while Paul stood there staring after them with a feeling of impending doom. </p><p>“The honorable Judge Norah Nantares presiding!” announced the bailiff and stepped aside for Her Honor. She emerged from her chambers through the door behind him and headed for the bench, her black robes tastefully ornamented by a Kente cloth collar in bright yellow, red, and green.</p><p>“Please be seated,” she said to everyone. She sat down behind the bench. When her fanny hit the chair, there was a loud squeak.  Jerry and Clarence giggled like schoolboys pulling a prank on the teacher. </p><p>The judge reached under her fanny and pulled out a furry stuffed toy resembling a fribble from the <em>Galaxy Guards </em>series, which got a laugh from the spectators. When she saw the toy, she emitted a sigh and put it on the bench beside her, stroking its furry black-and-white body. “Now I wonder where this came from?” she wondered aloud. She looked around the courtroom and called, “Oh, Mr. Crane! Mr. Shore! Does this belong to you?”</p><p>Jerry whipped out his cell phone, activated speed dial and muttered into it, “Alan, it’s the Red Hour!” He and Clarence then ran toward the courtroom doors and threw them open, each of them holding one side. Clarence pointed a remote control toward a tape recorder and all of a sudden, the lights dimmed and music began to play. It was the theme from <em>Galaxy Guards</em>, an orchestral score filled with trumpets. </p><p>Denny Crane entered the courtroom first, in an admiral’s uniform from that series, black dress slacks and a yellow tunic with five silver pips on the left side of his high collar. Following him was Sam in a blue tunic with four silver pips. It was obvious that he was an alien of some kind; he had a ridged forehead and a Fu Manchu mustache and beard like the Volgons, the peaceful, philosophical race who were allies of the Terran Alliance. Right behind him was Alan, who wore black slacks and a blue tunic crisscrossed at the breast, which was surprisingly a woman’s uniform. He wore three silver pips, as well as a padded bra beneath his tunic and a woman’s short, curly black wig, frosted with gray, doing his best to walk like a woman, waving to the cameras as he walked by. And behind Alan was Patrick, dressed in the most elaborate costume of all, a lizard-like alien with green scales resembling a mini-Godzilla, roaring threateningly at the reporters as he walked by, wearing only a gold sash across his chest with the emblem of his home planet Gorea, which resembled a green cheese with a sword through it. </p><p>Paul Lewiston had his head in his hands and was mumbling to himself, “They’re all gonna die, they’re all gonna die. If I don’t kill them myself...” Alan caught Paul’s eye as he went by and waved to him, batting his eyes flirtatiously. Paul attempted to grab Alan as he walked by, but was bitten by the lizard-like alien’s rubber teeth. </p><p>Judge Nantares hammered on the bench with her gavel, yelling “Order! Order!” as the crowd went wild. Fans of <em>Galaxy Guards</em> were cheering or jeering, the reporters were taking pictures left and right, the TV commentators were jabbering away into their microphones, some of them laughing so hard they could hardly speak. </p><p>Meanwhile, Mrs. Thomason was sitting in the back of the courtroom watching her son and his friends in their <em>Galaxy Guards</em> costumes, saying to the person next to her, “So that’s why he wanted his Gorean costume. He hasn’t worn it since the last <em>Galaxy Guards </em>convention.”      </p><p>The judge was still hammering away at the bench as the crowd showed no signs of settling down. “Order! Order!” she said again.</p><p>“Salami on rye!” yelled Denny Crane.</p><p>“Grilled cheese on wheat toast!” said Sam.</p><p>“Oh, nothing for me, I’m watching my figure,” Alan said in a falsetto voice. <br/><br/>Patrick said in a raspy voice, “Deep fried bloodworms!”</p><p>The gallery erupted once again into howls of laughter. People who didn’t get the joke were having it explained to them by the <em>Galaxy Guards </em>fans. The lady sitting next to Mrs. Thomason looked puzzled, so Mrs. Thomason explained. “Goreans are carnivorous, but their planet doesn’t have enough landmass to support livestock. So, they breed giant worms for food.” The lady looked nauseous, so Mrs. Thomason explained further. “It makes a nice change from fish!”</p><p>At this point the judge, who had had just about enough, got up from her chair and yelled, “QUIET!”</p><p>The courtroom finally fell silent. Peter Clement had tears in his eyes at this point, as he observed this tribute to his glory days. Bethany, looking extremely angry, got up on the table and waved her little fists in the air. “Your Honor, I object to this circus-like atmosphere!”</p><p>Denny said sarcastically, “Well, what’s a circus without a midget?”</p><p>She replied scornfully, “What are you, the ringmaster or a clown?”</p><p>Once again, the courtroom erupted with laughter. The judge banged her gavel again until some semblance of order was restored. She addressed the three costumed lawyers and their client in an overly patient way. “Gentlemen, what exactly are you trying to do here?”</p><p>“I’m glad you asked, Your Honor,” said Denny. He turned to Sam.  “Exactly what are we doing here, Sam?”</p><p>Sam stepped forward and addressed the court seriously. “With the court’s permission, Your Honor, we are trying to establish our client’s credibility here.”</p><p>“Credibility?” The judge raised one eyebrow skeptically.</p><p>“Yes, Your Honor. If you recall, on Friday certain accusations were made against our client, accusing him of being disrespectful to Mr. Clement here. I believe Ms. Horowitz even referred to him as a ‘hack writer’. By our little presentation here, we will prove that nothing is further from the truth on both counts.”</p><p>The judge looked puzzled.  “What kind of a presentation is this, Mr. Kimmel?”</p><p>Sam politely answered, “It is a dramatization of one of Patrick Thomason’s scripts, which he submitted to Unimount as his last attempt to be published. It was submitted after Unimount had announced that Mr. Clement’s character would not be returning the following season. This time around, Mr. Thomason made it very clear that he was not in it for the money. He wanted to pay tribute to Captain Kenneth Thomas Jackson, by projecting forty years into the future, showing him negotiating a long-awaited peace treaty with the Goreans.”</p><p>Bethany, still standing on the table, yelled “Your Honor, all this is way out of line!” </p><p>“Oh, come down off your soapbox, Ms. Horowitz!” Judge Nantares said scornfully. “Given the unusual circumstances of this case, you have had more than enough latitude here. I believe we should give defense the same courtesy.”  She turned back to the costumed attorneys.  “All right, gentleman, make your case.  And it better be good!”</p><p>Alan bowed to the judge, patted his wig and said in a falsetto voice, “Thank you, Your Honor.  We hereby present an excerpt from the episode entitled ‘The Gorean Incident’ by Patrick Thomason.”  The lights dimmed and the <em>Galaxy Guards </em>theme was played once again as the characters took their places.</p><p>Denny Crane, in his role as Admiral Jackson set forty years in the future, stepped forward and recited from his personal log: “Admiral’s Log: We have finally negotiated a peace treaty with the Goreans. I have come out of retirement at the request of my old friend Roddan, whose life I saved on my last mission, for one more trip aboard the IFS PROMETHEUS, in order to sign the final papers...”</p><p>In his role as Dr. Esther Burke, Alan came forward and ran a medical scanner over the admiral, expressing concern about his failing health.  Obviously, her concern was personal, as well as medical. The admiral dismissed her concern and assured her that he was well enough to complete this final mission. Sam’s character, formerly First Officer Racoate Klang, now the captain of the IFS PROMETHEUS (and, unlike the first two characters, showing no signs of aging because of the longevity of his race) announced that they were approaching Gorea, the Gorean’s home planet. A ship commanded by Jackson’s old friend Roddan, once his greatest enemy, was arriving to escort them.</p><p>A loud rumble was heard from the back of the courtroom as Clarence and Jerry monitored the sound system. When Jackson asked what was happening, Klang told him that the Klaxons had attacked the Gorean ship because they didn’t want the treaty to go through. The doctor then turned a knob on “her” communications device (Alan’s cell phone) and asked if there were any casualties aboard the Gorean ship. Clarence replied via his cell phone that the Gorean commander, Roddan, was severely injured and in urgent need of medical assistance. Admiral Jackson commanded that he be transported aboard. Klang told him that if they did that, the Klaxons would attack them next. Jackson replied nobly, “That’s a risk we’ll have to take. By Gorean custom, I am responsible for Roddan’s life because I saved him once. If I fail to save him again, I will lose face with his people, and we will lose what we worked so hard for these last forty years. Transport him aboard now!”</p><p>Klang gave the order to “Initiate transport function now!” The lights in the courtroom dimmed on and off as the transporter whined. Just as the wounded Roddan appeared, huddled in a heap on the floor at the doctor’s feet, another loud rumble was heard. Klang announced that the Klaxons were now firing upon them. The admiral responded, “Initiate shadow function, Mr. Klang!” </p><p>“But Admiral, our shields are down to 40%!” Klang objected.    </p><p>“That’s an order, Mister!” the admiral insisted. </p><p>The doctor ran a scanner across the Gorean’s body. “Admiral, life signs are fading fast. Roddan is dying. There is nothing we can do. He needs an immediate transfusion of blood and nobody on board would be of a compatible blood type.”</p><p>The admiral went over to her. “Check my blood type, Esther.” </p><p>The doctor took the admiral’s hand. “Ken, you can’t be serious.  You’re seventy years old!”</p><p>Klang chimed in. “Logically, I cannot understand how such would be anything more than an exercise in futility. The Admiral is human. Roddan is Gorean.” </p><p>The admiral sighed as he explained.  “During the ceremony of blood, which I had to undergo the first time that I saved Roddan’s life, part of his blood became transfused to me. It was a small quantity, but the density of alien blood might just be a factor in our favor here.  Care to explain, Doctor?”</p><p>‘She’ shook ‘her’ head, hesitating, but did as ‘she’ was told.  “It’s true. Gorean blood has a thicker density and has a much higher coagulation/absorption rate as compared to human blood. The two could bind together symbiotically. It could be possible. But Ken, I must advise against it. Even if your blood could produce a compatible match, your own physical condition would not allow you to safely transfuse. We are a considerable distance from the nearest medical base and even when we could get you there, we do not have the technology to re-synthesize your blood type. It’s much too rare. Even donating a pint of blood could kill you. Therefore, I refuse to test your blood since your own health concerns would make you an incompatible donor.”</p><p>The admiral made eye contact with the doctor. “Esther, you and I are closer than just crewmembers aboard a starship. I know that our feelings toward each other are, well, clouding your judgment as a physician. I don’t want to order you to do this, but I will if I have to. Now, please test my blood type and compare it to Mr. Roddan’s for compatibility.  Do it now, Esther!”</p><p>Reluctantly, ‘she’ picked up a plastic needle and stuck it into his arm and the holder filled up with red liquid. ‘She’ put the vial down and then did the same procedure on the Gorean, whose vial filled with violet liquid. ‘She’ quickly went behind a table and within a moment produced a piece of paper which ‘she’ read and handed to Captain Klang. A tear came to ‘her’ eye as ’she’ turned away from them. </p><p>The admiral paced impatiently. “Well, Klang, speak up, what is it?” </p><p>Klang hesitated for a moment. “Admiral, the blood types do seem to match. From my former post as science officer, I could estimate that probably you would stand a chance to save Roddan from dying, but you would be putting your own life at risk. Kenneth, my friend, I advise you to consider what you would be doing very carefully.”  </p><p>Dr. Burke paced back and forth. “This is preposterous. I want no part of it!”                                              </p><p>Just then, Jerry turned up the sound effects monitor to a higher intensity and the resulting boom was so loud that it caused the room to shake. </p><p>Klang got on his cell phone/communicator. “Klang to Engineering! Report, Mr. Jordan.”</p><p>Clarence’s voice was heard on a speaker phone planted by the defense table. “Captain, the Klaxons are getting closer to us.  That last volley of fire deactivated our shadow function. One more blast like that and we’ll be dead in the water. We can’t hold them off by ourselves. There are just too many of them.” </p><p>Klang responded, “Mr. Jordan, how many Gorean ships are there and what is their position?”</p><p>Clarence’s voice answered, “There must be at least fifty ships surrounding us, sir, but they’re all staying in place, awaiting orders from Commander Roddan.” </p><p>Klang sighed. “Thank you, Mr. Jordan, stand by for further instruction.” He turned off his communicator. </p><p>The admiral paced thoughtfully. “Considering the situation, the Klaxons stand a good chance of being overtaken by joint Terran and Gorean forces. As a matter of fact, probably even the least joint show of force would drive the Klaxons away.”</p><p>Klang interjected. “However, the Goreans would only listen to their leader. They would not do anything to help us, unless he instructs them to do so. Unfortunately, such is impossible, since he is now dying from loss of blood.” </p><p>The admiral once again continued on the same course of logic. “And if we lose this battle, there is no doubt that the Klaxons would head straight to Earth. Terran defenses would be no match for them once they breech this point in space. Therefore, there is only one way to handle this situation. Klang, get me the treaty form.” Klang obeyed. The admiral affixed his personal seal to the paper. </p><p>“Hold on to this paper, Klang. Keep it in a safe place. After Commander Roddan regains consciousness, make sure that he affixes his seal as well. Then plead with him to gather his forces to help us against the Klaxons. That would be Earth’s only hope.”</p><p>Dr. Burke still seemed uncomfortable. “But Ken, what about...what about...you?  Do you realize that you are condemning yourself to death?”</p><p>Jackson turned to Dr. Burke, absent-mindedly stuffing the paper into his back pocket before putting his arm around her. “Esther, my darling, I am seventy years old and in ill health. How many years would I have left if this had never happened? Five? Ten? Not nearly enough to justify jeopardizing the lives of millions of people on Earth, the home planet of the Intergalactic Federation. What we all worked so hard for could be destroyed in a matter of moments. We cannot let that happen.”</p><p>“It just isn’t fair!” ‘she’ cried. </p><p>Klang thoughtfully raised an eyebrow. “There could be a way to retrieve our ends without killing the admiral. Kenneth, if you are willing to allow yourself to be put into cryogenic storage after the blood procedure is done, you will not die. Your body would be frozen until our technology is advanced enough to produce a blood compound which would be compatible for you. Is such an option acceptable to you?”                            </p><p>Jackson smiled widely. “Yes, that is how we’ll do it. Let’s set everything up right now. There is no time to lose!”</p><p>Dr. Burke hesitated, drawing closer to the admiral, so that ‘she’ could have a moment alone with him. “Ken, my darling, my only true love, do you realize what you’re asking us to do? Our hematological technology is nowhere near the point of synthesizing a suitable blood substitute for your unique blood type. It could be hundreds of years before our doctors would reach that point. There is a good chance that we may never see each other again.”</p><p>The admiral hugged ‘her’ tightly. “We must not think of ourselves, my dear. There is a higher cause out there. We have a planet and an Intergalactic Federation which is under attack. We need to act immediately. Klang is an excellent leader. Listen to him. He is more than competent to carry on in my absence.” </p><p>The Volgon chimed in. “As much as I regret to proceed in this manner, I must agree with the admiral. Kenneth, I will miss your leadership and your good company. You have been my commanding officer and my closest friend, as well. But if you are resigned to this course of action, we will proceed as you wish.”</p><p>Suppressing a sob Dr. Burke picked up ‘her’ cell phone and spoke into it authoritatively. “Burke to Med Labs. Bring in the cryogenic chamber now.”</p><p>“Yes, Doctor.” Clarence’s voice confirmed on speaker phone. A moment later, Clarence and Jerry entered the courtroom in lab coats which covered their overalls. They were carrying an extremely big, awkward cardboard box, which was covered in aluminum foil. Little plastic knobs and construction paper shapes were attached to it. They carefully moved the box through the courtroom, sideways, trying hard not to bump into any of the spectators sitting in the gallery. At last, they reached the front of the room, where they worked laboriously to set things up. </p><p>Jerry opened the front of the box and motioned for the admiral to enter. Clarence helped ‘Jackson’ into the box and motioned for him to lie down. The two technicians were capable with electronics, but were inaccurate estimators of human girth. The box could barely fit the admiral. It was not wide enough. Jerry motioned for Alan and Sam to help him. They quickly assisted. Patrick would have been glad to lend a hand as well, but he remembered that his character was supposed to be dying, so he remained still.</p><p>Finally, the overweight Commanding Officer was set up in the cryogenic chamber, with only his face showing. Dr. Burke sadly hooked up the blood transfuser, which was in reality a rubber hose with flashing Christmas light bulbs. ‘She’ tied one end to Jackson and the other to Roddan. The doctor monitored the life signals of each of her patients as Klang stood at one end of the chamber saying, “Kenneth, it was an honor to serve with you. I will do my best to preserve your legacy. Please tell me how you would like to be remembered. Your life signs are fading and we will soon have to turn on the cryogenic chamber.”</p><p>The admiral’s voice was weakening. “Klang, there is only one way that I want to be remembered. Forget admiral, I want to be remembered as CAPTAIN Kenneth Thomas Jackson.” </p><p>Cheers and applause came from the gallery as those words were uttered. A smile of tender satisfaction came to the face of Peter Clement. </p><p>Klang checked the admiral’s life signs. “Heart rate and vital signs fading.”</p><p>The doctor commanded, “Activate cryogenic chamber now!” </p><p>A whirling noise was heard in the background and the lights flashed on and off. </p><p>“Done,” Klang assured the doctor. “The admiral’s life signs are stable. The cryogenic freeze is working well.”</p><p>The doctor wiped a tear from ‘her’ eye. She put her hand on Jackson’s cheek tenderly. With a strong dose of professional competence, she turned to her other patient. </p><p>“How is the Gorean doing, Doctor?” asked Captain Klang.</p><p>“Life signs slowly starting to stabilize,” Burke replied. “He is regaining consciousness.”</p><p>Slowly the lizard’s head emerged from the ‘bio-bed’ and his eyes opened. Roddan looked at the doctor, then at Klang and asked, “Where am I?”</p><p>Klang said to the lizard, “You are on board the IFS PROMETHEUS. You have just undergone a life-saving medical procedure. After you were transported from your ship, you were found to be injured to the point of near death from loss of blood. Admiral Jackson has saved your life, by consenting to a blood transfusion. Such a procedure threatened his life and health and he therefore needed to be put into stasis.” Klang pointed to the chamber in which Jackson was lying. </p><p>In reality, Denny was quite uncomfortable and had to struggle to keep from moving. Patrick noticed Denny’s slight twitch and did a quick ad-lib to cover Denny’s movements. The lizard got up and waddled over to the chamber as he remarked to the captain, “He has saved my life once again. So lifelike, I thought I saw him move.” As he bent over the Cryogenic chamber, Patrick turned the box at an angle so that it wouldn’t be facing the audience. He slightly motioned for Sam to come over. </p><p>Denny motioned with his eyes that he needed an itch to be scratched. Sam obliged, gently brushing a hair back from Denny’s nose. “Yes, we had to be quite careful. He is motionless and dead to us, but still able to be resuscitated.” As Denny nodded his head, Sam quickly held Denny’s head in place, making it look like a tender gesture. “Resuscitation, unfortunately, cannot be done until the admiral’s blood is re-coagulated with the special reagent that is necessary to bond the plasma components. That could take a long time, unfortunately, a very long time...” A painful wail emerged from the box. Fortunately, it was low enough in tone to be heard by Alan and covered by Dr. Burke’s own loud and painful wail.</p><p>Klang comforted the doctor. The lizard turned to Klang to take the attention off of the box. “Captain Klang, is there something that you need me to do?”</p><p>“Yes!” Klang uttered, almost too happily to remain in character, but happy that the attention was being taken away from Denny’s box. “You need to see this piece of paper that was signed by the admiral before he went into the stasis unit. It is a treaty.” Sam looked around the courtroom for the paper that was stamped by Denny, but could not find it. A low groan came from the box that only the lawyers could hear. The three immediately knew what the problem was. Alan thought quickly.</p><p>“Oh, my goodness, a problem with the cryogenic life signs. Emergency mode!” He rushed over to the box and Denny whispered the words ‘back pants pocket.’ Alan thought quickly about what to do. </p><p>“Klang, Roddan, I will need your help.” All three of them struggled to turn a very uncomfortable overweight gentlemen over on his stomach. Finally, Sam retrieved the paper and the three once again struggled to turn him over.</p><p>“Crisis averted,” the doctor said with a tone of relief. </p><p>Klang continued. “As I was saying, Commander Roddan, here is the stamped, documented treaty. It was the admiral’s wish that you ratify it yourself and then inform the Klaxon Commander of such. In so doing, the likelihood is that his attack would be called off, since his ships are unable to handle both Gorean and Federation forces at the same time.”</p><p>The lizard nodded.  “Very well, I will add my own stamp to this document.” Roddan pressed his paw onto a stamp pad and put his own seal on the treaty. “It has been done. Now send an audio link to the Klaxons, please. I will talk to their leader.”</p><p>Klang picked up his communicator and said aloud: “Mister Zulu, establish communication with the Klaxon Command ship, please.”</p><p>“Right away, sir.” Clarence’s voice, now pitched a little lower, came over the speaker phone. Some bells and whistles were heard. “Link has been established. You will be now be speaking to Captain Chechen Chong of the Klaxon vessel.” Off-stage, Clarence nudged Jerry, who put his wooden cigarette into his mouth.</p><p>Jerry’s quirky but newly confident voice boomed, “This is Captain Chechen Chong of the Klaxon command vessel, <em>CANNABUS</em>.  Your surrender is demanded immediately. Your vessel will be taken and all of you will be dealt with justly. Your men will be killed, your women will be taken as concubines, and your children will be sold as slaves. You have sixty seconds to comply.” </p><p>Roddan responded at once. “Captain Chong, you need to be informed of the fact that the Goreans and the Intergalactic Fleet have formed an alliance. Our firepower outmatches yours and our phosphors are all aimed directly at your vessel.”</p><p>Klang chimed in. “Therefore, we strongly advise you to leave this sector now. We offer you sixty seconds to comply.”</p><p>Chong hesitated for a moment. “Your terms are acceptable. We will vacate your space at once.” The voice cut off immediately.</p><p>Klang spoke into his cell phone. “Mr. Zulu, what is the status of the Klaxon ship?” </p><p>Clarence responded in his deeper Zulu voice. “The whole fleet is leaving our space, Captain.”</p><p>Roddan and Klang joined hands. Roddan was the first to speak.  “Because of the actions of my good friend Kenneth Thomas Jackson, a peace for all generations will be established between our races.”</p><p>Klang responded in turn, “Yes, let us honor his memory.” The spotlight focused on the box in the corner, which the three lawyers prayed would not move at the last minute. Fortunately, their worst fears did not come true. Denny was still. The actors breathed a collective sigh of relief as the lights dimmed and the <em>Galaxy Guards </em>theme music was played. The gallery burst into applause. The box stood motionless in the corner. </p><p>Judge Nantares called for a half hour recess, so that the impromptu stage could be transformed back into a courtroom. Clarence and Jerry got to work immediately to dismantle the lights and wires. The box stood motionless in the corner.</p><p>Paul stared into space, not knowing what to do or what to think.  A <em>Galaxy Guards </em>fan asked him what his favorite character was in the series. He responded that he was sort of partial to the shape-shifter who appeared in several episodes of the third season. The box stood motionless in the corner.</p><p>The bailiff held the crowd at bay. He cordoned off the area between the tables and the gallery. The audience was going crazy. <em>Galaxy Guards </em>fans were babbling one to another about miniscule items in the script. The box stood motionless in the corner.</p><p>Peter Clement had a glimmer in his eyes, that neither his nurse or his physical therapist noticed. Bethany and Bloch were arguing back and forth, Bethany trying to supply comfort to her client, to no avail. The box stood motionless in the corner. </p><p>Judge Nantares called Alan, Sam and Patrick to the bench. She said that she needed to discuss certain items of admissibility in Patrick’s proposed defense testimony. She wanted to avoid any more unwelcome surprises. Alan assured her that any more surprises that would be forthcoming would certainly not be unwelcome, a response that the judge was not entirely comfortable with. The box stood motionless in the corner. </p><p>Judge Nantares looked at her watch and called over to her bailiff. “Bill, you can take your break now.” Another bailiff, an attractive, dark-haired woman in her mid-thirties, entered the room to stand guard while Bill was off duty. Bill nodded to the judge and took a wrapped sandwich out of his pocket. Bill, being good-natured, but not too quick on the uptake, looked for a place to sit down. There were no unoccupied benches or chairs. The box stood motionless in the corner. </p><p>Bill saw an opportunity. He squatted and sat down on the box.  The six-foot, four inch, two-hundred-and-thirty-pound man sat right down on top of Denny, on an area which was covered with cardboard and aluminum foil, but quite sensitive. A loud howl emanated from the box that was loud enough to silence the whole courtroom.           </p><p>“Oh, my God! It’s the Klaxons! They’ve come back!” yelled an alarmed Bill. </p><p>Judge Nantares stifled a laugh as Bill ran to her side. She turned to Alan, Sam and Patrick, motioning toward the box.  “Oh, and gentlemen, please get that thing out of my courtroom.”</p><p>The two lawyers and their client ran to the box. Patrick quickly used his plastic Gorean dagger to tear open the facial part of the box. A very uncomfortable Denny Crane lay huddled in a fetal position. He was sweating and shaking. </p><p>“Denny, are you okay?” Alan asked in a concerned voice. </p><p>Denny groaned. “No, I was doing okay trying to get myself comfortable when old Baldo the Hun there decided to take a squat and sat on my-well, you know! Anyway, you can imagine how much pain I’m in right now. That is one part of my anatomy that was not meant to be sat upon by a two-hundred-pound sumo wrestler! Oh, the pain, the pain...”</p><p>Sam tried to comfort him. “Denny, I’m sure that it was an accident. Come on out of the box and we’ll get you fixed up.”</p><p>Denny looked as though he was about to cry. “You don’t understand, Sam. To protect all that is holy, I decided to try to shift myself to avoid any further damage. In the process, I ripped my pants.”</p><p>“Oh, dear!” Alan said. </p><p>“Yes, that can be embarrassing,” Sam murmured.</p><p>Judge Nantares interrupted them. “Gentlemen, we’re reconvening in fifteen minutes. I was serious about that box. I want it out of here! Do what you want with what’s inside, just don’t make an embarrassing mess of it.” </p><p>“That could be difficult, Your Honor,” Sam said, trying to keep a straight face. </p><p>“Wait, I’ve got an idea!” Patrick motioned for the two lawyers to come closer to him. He whispered in their ears for a few moments. </p><p>Alan nodded. “Yeah, that should work.”</p><p>Sam raised an eyebrow. He motioned to the judge. “Oh, Your Honor, could we use one of the side rooms? We need to prepare something.  We promise to remove the box, as you see it right now.”</p><p>The judge was a little uncomfortable with his elusive wording, but decided not to pursue the matter any further. “Oh, very well,” she sighed, “take the room on the right. Remember, gentlemen, I want you back out here in fifteen minutes, no later.” They all nodded to the judge. All three men picked up the box and struggled to bring it into the back room. </p><p>Exactly fifteen minutes later, Sam, Alan, and Patrick re-emerged from the room, both lawyers wearing suits (having simply removed their uniform tops and makeup and donned their jackets, Alan’s hair still pressed flat by the wig), Patrick still in his Gorean costume. They looked around them for the fourth member of their party. When they noticed he was missing, they went back into the room. When the door opened once again, they were pulling a very reluctant robotlike creature out of the room. Sam and Alan each held on to one of Denny’s metallic arms, while Patrick held the door open for them. The cardboard box had been transformed into a robot costume with the help of some aluminum foil, face paint, duct tape and a pointy silver funnel. The audience applauded. </p><p>Paul was puzzled. He politely asked the local sci-fi geek sitting next to him, recognizable by his <em>Galaxy Guards</em> tee shirt with its outstanding IFS symbol, “Excuse me, I must have missed a few episodes.  Who exactly is that robot character?”</p><p>The fan gave him a peculiar look. “That’s Depillaton. He’s the robot that used to be evil Queen Elaana’s henchman. In the 5<sup>th</sup> episode of the second season, Captain Jackson thwarted Elaana’s plan to release the horrible ooze of the toxic Naeir fumes. The good captain took the robot into custody and rehabilitated him. He became the ship’s special services auxiliary and young Wes Robinson’s closest friend.”</p><p>Paul sighed. “That explains a lot.” In truth, nothing really made any sense, but he was beyond caring at that point. </p><p>Judge Nantares pounded her gavel. “Court in session.” Everyone quieted down. She turned to the defense table. “Mr. Kimmel, are you ready to cross-examine Mr. Clement?”</p><p>Sam smiled. “With the court’s permission, we would like to waive the right to cross-examine Mr. Clement. Let his testimony for the prosecution stand as it is. However, after Mr. Thomason finishes testifying, we would like to call Mr. Clement to the stand as a witness for the defense.”</p><p>Bethany got up so quickly that her chair fell down. “Objection!  There was no record made of Mr. Clement appearing as one of YOUR witnesses! We had no time to prepare!”</p><p>Alan immediately responded. “Yes, just in the same way that a certain other lawyer tried to call a witness without informing us. It seems to be a trend, doesn’t it, Your Honor? Twice in three days with the same witness.  How odd could that be?”</p><p>Bethany responded angrily. “But there were special circumstances-”</p><p>The judge banged her gavel. “Both of you, stop bickering! Mr. Shore does have a point. The rules do apply to both sides of this case. The exceptional circumstances that empowered the plaintiff’s case should have equal weight for the defense. That is, as long as Mr. Clement does not mind testifying for the defense.” She turned to the man in the wheelchair. “Mr. Clement, would you have any problem at all with this change in proceeding?”                     </p><p>The nurse turned the wheelchair to face the judge. “I-would-be-pleased-to-have-the-op-por-tu-nity,” Clement responded through his synthesizer.</p><p>Judge Nantares nodded. “Good enough for me. Objection overruled. Mr. Clement will be testifying after Mr. Thomason. Mr. Kimmel, you may present your case.”</p><p>Patrick took the stand. He took off his rubber mask and stuffed it into his back pocket through a side vent in his lizard suit, then carefully pushed his long tail to one side before sitting down.</p><p>Sam greeted the young man. “Good afternoon, Mr. Thomason. I appreciate your effort in coming here. I know that you are unaccustomed to public speaking, so I’ll try to be brief. Could you elaborate on the purpose of your little presentation here and its relevance to our case?”</p><p>Patrick cleared his throat nervously. “Ahem, yes, it was a script that I wrote for <em>Galaxy Guards </em>back in 1987, when I was eighteen. It was actually the last thing that I submitted to Unimount.”</p><p>Sam paced thoughtfully. “So, let’s get the timeline straight here. You were motivated to send Unimount another script after they rejected you so many times?”</p><p>“Yes, Mr. Kimmel, the circumstances were different. Before, I was proposing an idea for something new. This last time, I wanted to pay tribute to Mr. Clement.”</p><p>Sam put his hands behind his back. “I see. Now, just some more clarification about the timeline. Did you send in your manuscript before or after Mr. Clement’s unfortunate accident?”</p><p>Patrick answered with confidence. “Oh, before, definitely.”</p><p>Sam continued.  “Now, why would Mr. Clement need tribute paid to him <em>before</em> the accident?”  </p><p>Patrick sighed. “I am part of an underground fan base that has direct connection to the production studio. We have a way of finding out the details of what goes on before it even happens.  My sources told me that Unimount was planning on killing off the character of Captain Jackson after the 3<sup>rd</sup> season.” A collective gasp filled the courtroom, followed by the angry murmuring of <em>Galaxy Guards </em>fans. Patrick proceeded with his testimony despite the threatening rumble in the background.</p><p>“Although the fans loved Mr. Clement and the show was at the top of the ratings list, Unimount wanted to appeal to a younger fan demographic. They wanted to produce a movie with another actor playing a younger version of Kenneth Jackson. You can imagine how my friends and I were disappointed beyond belief. We launched a conscientious letter writing campaign, but our pleas were ignored. We even rented a bus to protest in front of Unimount studios, but it was clear that nobody was listening to us.”</p><p>Sam smiled sympathetically. “Very distressing, indeed. Tell me, Patrick, did your fan connections inform you how Unimount planned to eliminate the older version of Captain Jackson?”</p><p>Patrick looked very sad. “Yes, that was the most heartbreaking part of the whole thing. They were not even going to bring Mr. Clement in at all during the 4<sup>th</sup> season. They had a script line in which Captain Jackson was sent on a special assignment to negotiate a treaty with the Goreans. However, the Klaxons got wind of this proposed alliance and blew up Captain Jackson’s ship. That was the way that they wanted to end the career of an honorable man. It just wasn’t right, Mr. Kimmel! So many plot lines were unresolved. Captain Jackson’s final mission would have failed and it would have been up to Commander Klang to emerge as the hero. Neither was the relationship between the doctor and the captain ever really explained. </p><p>“I knew that I had to do something, or at least try to do something. So, I sent in a written copy of the script that you just saw performed to Unimount Studios. I proposed a way for Captain Jackson to resolve all of the loose plot lines in an honorable way, as well as a means to bring his character back if the writers chose to do so.”</p><p>Sam nodded satisfactorily. “And Patrick, were you expecting any financial compensation for your efforts, may I ask?”</p><p>Patrick shook his head forcefully. “Certainly not, Mr. Kimmel!  I enclosed a letter stating that my script was a gift from the concerned fans of <em>Galaxy Guards</em>. I explicitly wrote that I expected nothing in return for my efforts. I just wanted Mr. Bloch to read the script and give it respectful consideration.” </p><p>Sam looked pleased. “So, did he?”</p><p>There was a long pause, during which Patrick’s face became as long as a hound dog’s, and just as sorrowful. “I don’t know.  I never heard from Unimount Studios again. Nothing, nada, zip!  I didn’t even get a rejection slip this time. After six months, I came to the conclusion that my script must have ended up in the circular file.”</p><p>“Circular file?”</p><p>Patrick sighed. “The waste basket. That’s where most unsolicited material ends up at Unimount, especially fan-written fiction.” </p><p>Sam turned to the court audience. “How sad. Such a talented young author’s work being rejected.” He paused for a moment for that thought to sink into the minds of the jury members. “I’ll let my co-counsel continue. Mr. Shore?”</p><p>Sam sat as Alan got up. “Mr. Thomason, just a few questions as to the way that you organize your work. By work, I’m referring to the scripts that you sent into Unimount for evaluation. Was every individual script well differentiated according to content, character, description and plot line?”</p><p>Patrick nodded. “Yes, sir. I always make sure that each character in every different script is distinctly different from every single other character in every other script.”</p><p>Alan seemed contented with his answer. “Thank you. Now, more specifically, getting to the point in question here: Would any reasonable person infer copyright infringement rules being broken when comparing your novel <em>Space Lore</em> with the <em>Galaxy Guards </em>series?”</p><p>Patrick shook his head determinedly. “Certainly not, Mr. Shore!  I have spoken with the members of my underground fan base about my dilemma.  They were kind enough to draw up a paper with forty-two differences, which I have printed out for the jury’s speculation.”</p><p>Alan smiled. “Even though we don’t have time to consider all 42 of those items, would you please elaborate on Item #1?”</p><p>Patrick took out a thick wad of folded papers from beneath his costume and unfolded it to read the first item.  “Yes, I’d be happy to. Item #1: The Klaxon’s antennae openings as they appear in the <em>Galaxy Guards </em>series, versus the Bovian’s black and white seed pods in <em>Space Lore</em>. Even though both are used for reproductive purposes, their form and function differ in at least five different manners. The first could be outlined as-”</p><p>Alan interrupted. “I think that we get the idea, Patrick.  Please give me a copy of the file so that the jury members can examine it in detail if they so choose. Along with opposing council, of course.” Patrick handed Alan two copies of the document, which Alan gave to the jury foreman and to Bethany. “Thank you, Mr. Thomason,” said Alan as he returned to the witness stand. “Now I need to ask you something else. What was your purpose in putting together that little script that was performed in the courtroom this afternoon?”</p><p>Patrick answered assertively, “To honor Mr. Clement, of course.”</p><p>Alan looked directly at Patrick. “Now, think carefully Patrick.  Have you ever, at any time, written anything to directly or indirectly reflect negatively on the character of Kenneth Thomas Jackson, or the <em>Galaxy Guards </em>series in particular?”</p><p>Patrick quickly answered, “Certainly not!” </p><p>Alan appeared satisfied. “Mr. Crane, you’re up next.” Alan sat down and Denny delicately and slowly got up. The aluminum foil on his torso creaked and squeaked as he came forward. Audience members snickered as they noticed the similarity of his character to the Tin Man in <em>The Wizard of Oz</em>. Several commented on it aloud, a couple began singing “We’re off to see the wizard, the wonderful wizard of Oz...”</p><p>Denny understood the reference. “Does anybody here have an oil can?” he asked. The courtroom erupted into laughter. “Glad that I can still make you laugh.” He slowly walked over to the witness stand and spoke to Patrick. “Patrick, I want you to focus on what we talked about on Saturday. What did you read in Mr. Nate Lenard’s biography about his relationship with Mr. Clement here?”</p><p>Patrick nodded. “As I told you, Mr. Lenard was Peter Clement’s best friend in real life. He and Mr. Clement starred together in many Westerns. When Mr. Clement retired from his old production company, he signed on with Unimount with the agreement that they would sign on Mr. Lenard as well. Unimount’s bosses assured him that Mr. Lenard would have an almost perfect guarantee of being offered a contract, provided that he passed a physical examination. As far as everyone knew, Nate Lenard was in perfect health. To most people, the medical exam was just a formality. However, a blood test revealed that he had a very minor form of Tay-Sachs Anemia, minor in the sense that it was kept under control through medication. Nothing about his life would have been adversely effected in any way.”</p><p>Denny continued. “So, what did the very capable Medimount-”</p><p>“That’s Unimount!” Bloch barked.</p><p>Denny continued, “Whatever! What did their doctors say when they found out about this condition?”</p><p>Patrick put on a serious face. “They failed him on his physical exam. Mr. Lenard believed the problem to go deeper than the medical condition itself. Tay-Sachs Anemia is a disease which is widespread among those of Jewish origin. Mr. Lenard believed that he was unjustly prejudiced against because of his Jewish beliefs.” </p><p>Bethany got up and waved one little hand. “Objection-relevance!”</p><p>Denny turned to Bethany. “This is America, little girl. All races. All religions. We don’t tolerate racism, neither should Mr. Mormonmount-”</p><p>“That’s Unimount!” Bloch groaned. </p><p>“Enough!” Judge Nantares yelled. “I’ll allow it. But Mr. Crane, please get to the point.”</p><p>“Whatever!” Denny commented. He turned to the jury. “How could you take the word of a man who runs a company that disrespects our country’s standard of honor?” He paused for a moment. Nobody knew how to respond to that challenge. “Denny Crane, for the defense.” He saluted by putting a metallic claw up to his funnel-like head cap. He made a heavy clanging sound in the process. For a moment, he felt a little bit off-balance, but then steadied himself and walked over to his seat.</p><p>The judge turned to Bethany.  “Care to cross-examine, Ms. Horowitz?”</p><p>“Yes, Your Honor,” she said softly. She walked up to the stand.  “Good morning, Mr. Thomason. Just a few questions. Very respectfully, son, why do you believe that anything that you’ve written is even half as good as what was written by any of Unimount’s talented authors?”</p><p>Patrick sighed. “Ms. Horowitz, I never compared myself to any other author. I never claimed to have either more or less talent than any other author who puts his work out on the free market.”</p><p>Bethany seemed a little taken aback by Patrick’s answer, but soon rebounded. “Mr. Thomason, do you realize how many people are affected by what goes on in this courtroom today? Worst case scenario, we have the case of that unfortunate gentleman whom you see in the wheelchair over there. You claim to do him honor by your little show of creativity. How could you claim to do him honor while working against the company that so benevolently pays for his medical needs?”</p><p>Sam rose up angrily. “Objection, Your Honor! That line of questioning goes to the issue of Mr. Clement’s medical insurance, which we will examine in great depth, during his testimony. The witness should not be expected to answer such questions.” </p><p>The judge nodded. “Objection sustained. Jury is to ignore that last question and strike it from the record. Continue, Ms. Horowitz, please.”</p><p>Bethany turned away for a moment to center her concentration.  When she turned back to Patrick, she asked, “Mr. Thomason, how do you feel when you see that helpless, suffering man in that wheelchair over there?”</p><p>Patrick responded immediately. “I feel angry, Ms. Horowitz.” </p><p>Bethany seemed to be pleased with his answer. She pressed on.  “And what is it about what I just asked you that makes you angry, Mr. Thomason?”</p><p>Patrick’s face reddened. “I feel uncomfortable answering that question. I don’t want to sound disrespectful.”</p><p>Bethany turned to the judge. “Your Honor, please direct the witness to answer the question.”</p><p>The judge had a good idea about the direction that his answer would be leading. “Are you quite sure that you want me to do so, Ms. Horowitz?”</p><p>“Yes, please!” she pleaded. </p><p>The judge turned to Patrick. “Very well, Mr. Thomason, the court directs you to answer the question that the Plaintiff’s attorney has posed to you.” </p><p>Patrick took a deep breath. “Okay, I am angry when I see a nice, kind, generous man like Mr. Clement being shamelessly taken advantage of when he is so sick like that. I mean, he should be at home, enjoying himself with his family in his last days, rather than being flown halfway around the country, dragged out to conventions, struggling to sign his name on a given number of autographs, forced to testify in court proceedings, forced to smile and make nice to the fans when he’s hurting so much inside-”</p><p>“Enough!” Bethany yelled. “We get the idea. No further questions.” Bethany sat down in a huff. </p><p>Nobody noticed how the testimony affected Mr. Clement. Very slowly, he nodded his head to show that he was in full agreement with everything that Patrick said. </p><p>Patrick came down from the stand and sat down at the defense table. He received handshakes and pats on the back from Sam, Alan and Denny.</p><p>Sam got up once again. “I’d like to call our final witness, Mr. Peter Clement. Take your time, please, in getting set up, sir.  We will wait.” </p><p>The nurse and physical therapist set up the stand to accommodate all of the witness’ special needs. A ramp was set up and the chair removed, while the microphone was lowered to Clement’s level. When it was ready, Clement was wheeled up the ramp and carefully positioned before the microphone. Then Sam came up to the witness stand and smiled at Mr. Clement. “Thank you, sir, for agreeing to this proceeding. I know that this is very difficult for you, so we’ll try to be as brief as possible. Now, Mr. Clement, were you aware of the fact that Unimount wanted to deny renewing your contract before the accident ever happened, immediately after <em>Galaxy Guards’ </em>third season?”</p><p>“No,” he responded briefly, with a tinge of anger in his voice that was easy to notice beneath its machine-like vocalization. </p><p>“So, you now know that the higher powers at Unimount planned to do so, and also recast your character with a younger actor. Is today the first time that you’ve heard anything about this?”</p><p>“Yes!” he almost yelled. </p><p>Sam continued. “So, now that you know, would you tell us, if you can, very briefly, how you feel?”</p><p>“An-gry,” he replied. </p><p>Sam nodded. “There is no need to ask why. Your feelings are well justified. If we could, let us go back to the time of the accident. On that tragic day, you were at one of the parties that Mr. Bloch arranged so that you could meet the right people, as he referred to them. So, you were at that party, fulfilling the terms of your contract. Were you happy to be there, Mr. Clement?”</p><p>“No,” he said sadly. </p><p>Sam took a deep breath. “Now, you can stop me if this is too painful or if I get the facts wrong. The day of the party was your daughter’s fifth birthday. You wanted to be home with your wife and daughter to help them celebrate, but you were under contract to be at that party on that tragic day. You were unhappy, so you had a few drinks to ease the pain. Then just before midnight, you got a phone call from your daughter. She was quite upset and wanted to know when you were coming home.  She was waiting up for you. So, you quickly grabbed your coat and left the party.</p><p>“Now you explained to Mr. Bloch what the situation was and the reason why you had to leave. He saw that you were drunk and refused to do anything to help you. You asked him to make arrangements for you to get home immediately, but he refused to do so. A man who owns 14 cars and 10 limousines could not spare a driver for a 10-minute ride to your residence. He even had the nerve to yell at you for wanting to leave so soon. So, you brushed past him and you stormed out the door and tried to drive yourself home, when obviously you were in no condition to do so. That is when the accident happened. Am I right, sir, in the way that I presented the facts?”</p><p>Clement paused and then answered sadly. “Yes.”</p><p>Sam put his hand on the man’s shoulder. “Just bear with me a little longer, sir. I’ll be finished soon. Now, what about the matter of your health insurance coverage? You were told that Unimount would pay for all of your needs and that you would be getting the very best of care. Is that correct, sir?”</p><p>“Yes,” Mr. Clement answered. </p><p>Sam smiled. “Well, they were half right, I must admit. They did cover you for all of your medical needs. But did you know, sir, that your health care provider was one of the Big Nine, as they came to be referred to, a group of hospitals that work together to conserve costs?”</p><p>“No,” Clement replied.</p><p>Sam continued. “And did you also know that Bernard Bloch is one of the major stockholders in the Big Nine? And that with every penny that he spends on health insurance premiums, he earns a 400% return on investment? This means that he was actually earning a huge profit on the fact that your medical condition required constant care. Were you aware of that fact?” </p><p>“No,” he said quickly.</p><p>Sam sighed. “Were you also aware of the fact that the Big Nine hospitals were rated as amongst the lowest in quality in the National Medical Reports survey?”</p><p>“No!” Clement said angrily.</p><p>“I just found out as well, Mr. Clement. Mr. Shore and myself have both encountered cases of patients being mistreated by that continuum of health care. I assure you that we will do what we can to report their disregard for patient care to the AMA as soon as possible. Now, do you feel strong enough to answer a few of Mr. Shore’s questions?”</p><p>“Yes,” he answered confidently. </p><p>Sam smiled at Mr. Clement, who, with great effort, returned the smile. Sam sat down next to Denny, who patted him on the back, as Alan got up and walked to the stand. </p><p>“Good afternoon, Mr. Clement. I know that this is difficult for you, but I want to ask you a few questions about your family. As Mr. Kimmel has said, you can stop at any time that the process gets too painful for you. Now, you met your wife on the set of the old Westerns that you were working on. You were happily married to Marge Berry for six years and were raising a daughter together...”  As Alan spoke, Clement’s eyes filled with tears.  Seeing this, Alan paused and asked gently, “Do you need a break, sir?”</p><p>“No-please-con-tin-ue,” Clement said in his metallic monotone.</p><p>“After the accident, Unimount pretty much controlled everything, didn’t they? You asked about your family and they assured you that they were well taken care of. However, they said that they didn’t want to see you the way that you were. Your wife allegedly said that it would be too traumatic for Natalie, your daughter, to see you in a wheelchair, with all those tubes and wires coming out of you. So, you have spent all these years alone, missing your family.”</p><p>“Yes,” Clement said, tears coming to his eyes again.</p><p>Alan then smiled and said, “Mr. Clement, would you believe that we have two surprise witnesses here today, who can tell us that everything Unimount told you was a big, fat lie?”</p><p>“Objection!” Bethany yelled, jumping out of her seat like a Jack-in-the-box. “Relevance! Unimount is not on trial here!”</p><p>“Not yet,” Alan replied smugly. He then turned toward the gallery and waved to someone in the back of the room. “I call Marge Berry Clement and Natalie Clement to the stand!”</p><p>There was a hubbub in the courtroom as two women got up and came down the center aisle. The older woman was tall and still quite shapely; the years had been good to her. Her carefully applied makeup and stylish hairdo, artfully dyed a shade of frosted blond to conceal the grey, hid the fact that she was closer to seventy than sixty. She wore a dark blue designer dress with full sleeves and a blue chiffon scarf with silver stripes wrapped around her neck. The younger woman had boyishly short blonde hair and wore a golden yellow blouse with black slacks and black leather boots. She was in her mid-twenties but looked closer to thirty and her face wore a determined look, while her mother simply looked worried. They both approached the witness stand, where Clement was regarding them eagerly and with great joy.</p><p>“Hello, Peter,” said Marge softly, with a sad smile.</p><p>“Hi, Daddy,” said Natalie. “I missed you.”</p><p>Poor Clement was too choked up to say a word. He just kept looking at them with tears running down his face. Marge went up to him and wiped the tears away with her scarf, then kissed him on one cheek, while Natalie kissed him on the other cheek.</p><p>The courtroom went wild. The cameras were flashing away as the commentators talked about what a touching moment this was, twenty-one years in the making. Meanwhile, Bernard Bloch had turned as pale as a ghost and was looking wildly around for a way to escape before he could be called to testify. His lawyer forcefully tugged at his sleeve. “Where do you think you’re going? You’re not going to leave me stuck with this mess!”</p><p>Judge Nantares banged her gavel. “Fifteen minute recess. Then we’ll try to somehow make sense of all of this.” She turned to Mr. Bloch and gave him a pleasant smile. “Oh, and Mr. Bloch, please don’t go anywhere. I wouldn’t want you to miss a single word of testimony from these charming ladies.”</p><p>During the intermission, the judge discussed a format for expanding the witness stand temporarily so that Mr. Clement could stay with his family while each was being questioned. The physical therapist and nurse made suggestions. The judge and defense lawyers found ways of accommodating them. Bethany listened silently, not daring to object to a single thing. The agreement was that because of the special circumstances, Bethany would hold off on her cross examination until the ladies had finished testifying. Then she would have the opportunity to cross-examine all three of them if she wished. Again, she dared not object to anything.</p><p>When court reconvened, Alan announced that he wanted to question Peter Clement’s wife first. He stepped up to the witness stand saying, “Good afternoon, Ms. Berry. I’m sorry, how should I refer to you? Ms. Berry? Or Mrs. Clement?”</p><p>She smiled. “I’m known professionally as Marge Berry, but for today and from now on, I want to be called Mrs. Clement.” </p><p>Alan nodded. “Very well, Mrs. Clement. Now, as you well know, there was an error in communication somewhere along the way here. What exactly did Mr. Bloch tell you all those years ago after the accident, when you wanted to visit your husband?”</p><p>Marge ran her fingers through her hair. “Oh, Mr. Bloch was his usual charming self. He told us that Peter was in no shape to receive visitors. He would need physical therapy, he had to undergo extensive surgeries. He told us to wait. So, we waited for a week. Then by that time, his mood was different. He wouldn’t even talk to us. He had his wife Margo do his talking for him. Not only is she his wife, but she’s his public relations director as well. She does all the unpleasant things that her husband is not able to handle, like breaking the bad news to their employees that they’re fired, things like that.</p><p>“So, when we got to the hospital, as soon as she came up to us outside my husband’s room, I knew that there was going to be trouble. And I was right. Not only did she refuse to let us in to see Peter, she blamed my daughter and me for causing his accident. She said it was our fault for forcing him to leave the party in his drunken condition. After that, I was traumatized. I just couldn’t handle anything anymore.” She broke down and cried. Her daughter comforted her as her husband held her hand reassuringly. </p><p>Natalie then whispered in Alan’s ear. “Mr. Shore, this is too much for my mother right now. May I continue for her?”</p><p>Alan nodded. “Yes, please do.” So, Natalie was sworn in and Alan asked her, “Ms. Clement, what happened after Mrs. Bloch approached your mother?”</p><p>She continued where her mother left off. However, she was not as emotionally fragile as the older woman. She inherited her toughness from her father, along with his blazing blue eyes.  “Approached? Approached?! Terrified is more like it. Mr. Bloch, I hope that you and your bitter half are both here right now, listening to every word we’re saying. We have been silent for too long. Because of you, my mother very nearly had a nervous breakdown. It took years for both of us to heal emotionally. </p><p>“We inquired about how Dad was doing from time to time, but the Blochs ordered the hospital administrators not to divulge any information to us. Even his best friend, Nate Lenard, was prohibited from seeing him. For years, we wondered and waited. In an article published in a local paper, Margo had the nerve to accuse us of trying to discourage Dad from taking the role of Captain Jackson. In the meantime, according to her, we didn’t mind living off of the money he made from his role. We couldn’t even walk into a grocery store without getting sneered at or being given the cold shoulder.  It has been that way for years.</p><p>“Then on Saturday night, we got the phone call from Mr. Kimmel. It was like a dream come true. Dad, we love you, we’re taking you home with us. We’re finally going to be a family again.” Photographers took pictures of the happy family as his wife held one of his hands and his daughter held the other. </p><p>Alan continued. “So, Ms. Clement, why did your father sign the contract with Unimount?” </p><p>Natalie sighed and shook her head. “My mother told me that when they were both young actors, just getting started in show business, they were anxious to become successful. They dreamed of becoming big stars, so they could pick their roles and act together in scripts written just for them, like Spencer Tracey and Katherine Hepburn, or Liz Taylor and Richard Burton. But because they had co-starred in so many romantic comedies and Westerns, they were hopelessly typecast. Scriptwriters and directors refused to consider them for any other kind of role. </p><p>“Then along came Bernard Bloch, rising young writer, producer and director, who was looking for someone to play the lead role in his new sci-fi TV show, <em>Galaxy Guards</em>.” She paused in her testimony to stare coldly at Bloch, who seemed to shrink in his seat at the prosecution table. He looked as if he wanted to hide under the table. </p><p>“My mother was originally opposed to the part of Captain Jackson, because she considered the role of a spaceship captain to be beneath him; after all, he had been nominated for two Academy Awards. But she would have been happy if Dad were happy.  He just didn’t want to wind up like so many middleaged actors, such as George Reeves, who were out of work by the time they were forty. There was also me to think of; I was two years old at the time. So, Dad couldn’t just think of himself. He needed a role that would keep us all financially secure for a long time.</p><p>“Mom never trusted Bloch from the beginning. She likened him to a snake oil salesman. Dad was somehow mesmerized by his big promises and his ability to manipulate. Mr. Bloch is a very convincing person. He can make you believe anything he says. He could sell iceboxes to Eskimos. So, he had no trouble convincing my father to sign a long-term contract for his TV series. Mom urged Dad to get a lawyer to examine the contract before he signed it, but Mr. Bloch overrode all of her objections. He convinced my father that this was his only chance to be a star, and he had to sign immediately, or else the part would be given to someone else. Poor Dad was desperate to be a star, for his family’s sake as well as his own, so he signed the contract.” Natalie sighed and hung her head. “He thought that all of his troubles would be over. But they were just beginning...</p><p>“From that moment, Bloch owned him. Every hour of every day was taken up by <em>Galaxy Guards</em>, the rehearsals, the shooting, costume fittings, publicity photos, all these parties he had to go to. At first, he would bring Mom along, but then Bloch persuaded him that she would be better off staying at home, taking care of me. That way he could take Dad to wilder parties at places where Mom wouldn’t fit in, like the Playboy Mansion, and all those gambling casinos in Vegas where other celebrities hung out, along with certain Italian businessmen known for their mob connections.</p><p>“But for all of his money, Dad was never really happy. He just wanted to be home with his family. That was the one thing that Bloch refused to do for him. He wasn’t even allowed to come home at Christmas. Bloch insisted that they wrap up all the current season’s episodes and get at least one third of next season’s in the can, even if it meant working during the holidays.”</p><p>“How did your father and his co-stars feel about this grueling schedule?” Alan asked her.</p><p>“Most of his co-stars were younger than him, and they didn’t have wives or families to come home to. They grumbled a bit about it interfering with their social lives, but they enjoyed all the attention it got them from fans, especially pretty girls.  As for the women on the series, Gale MacConnoll, who played Doctor Esther Burke, and Geraldine Wharton, who played Chief of Security Mkeba Mandella, they complained about not being able to meet men who wanted a real relationship. Most of them were starving young actors who only wanted to make a name for themselves by being seen in public with a star from a successful TV series. They were also hoping to be offered a role in the series themselves. Some of them actually did get small supporting roles or cameo appearances, which only encouraged the others. </p><p>“The point is that nobody was happy working under Bernard Bloch.  He was a slave driver who didn’t appreciate his actors and treated them all like cattle. If anyone complained, he would threaten to replace them. Or rather, his wife would. All she had to do was tell them ‘Stop bothering my poor husband with your petty problems, or I’ll have the scriptwriters kill you off in the next episode!’ Even the scriptwriters were afraid of her. She was constantly nagging them to write about relevant subjects, social issues, things that appeared in the news of the day, like politics, race, women’s rights, all thinly disguised as issues occurring on alien worlds. Nobody was able to write what they really wanted, so they never gave their very best. That’s why <em>Galaxy Guards </em>didn’t last more than three seasons. They just kept recycling the same plots over and over.”     </p><p>A hostile, shrill voice yelling “Hold it!” emanated from the gallery. Margo Bennett Bloch stood up from her seat near the front and came out into the aisle. She wore a green dress and stiletto heels and still had a good figure, considering her age. As a matter of fact, she bore a slight resemblance to Marge Berry, only ten years older. Her hair was dyed reddish-brown and arranged in an upswept style. The lady spoke completely out of turn, but nonetheless she was completely audible and her identity unmistakable.</p><p>“Well, speaking of aliens, nobody else would have hired Gerry Wharton because of her little immigration issue! Need I say more? And as far as the scripts are concerned, if your father and his cronies were better actors, we could have given them more challenging scripts to work with!”  </p><p>Natalie’s face reddened as she stood up, exclaiming “Why, you old b-”</p><p>The judge cut her off. “Ladies, stop it at once!” Both Margo and Natalie sat down, Margo throwing a look of contempt over her shoulder at the younger woman as she resumed her seat in the gallery.</p><p>Judge Nantares paused and folded her hands. Clearly, she was slightly overwhelmed. “For now, I need some time to clear up a personal matter. We will reconvene in a half hour.”</p><p>The judge exited into her chambers. The reporters started to babble. A moment or two later, Bill the bailiff came into the gallery, lightly tapped Paul Lewiston on the shoulder and motioned that he come with him to the judge’s chambers. </p><p>The defense team observed what was going on and they all looked worried. Denny whispered to Alan, “Well, I guess that we’ll be called to the principal’s office soon.”</p><p>Alan cast a worried look at Sam. “How are you holding up, Sam? I know that our antics are somewhat unusual to you, to say the least.”</p><p>Sam smiled widely. “Are you kidding me? I’m having the time of my life! I haven’t felt so good in years!”    </p><p>Patrick didn’t say anything. He just appeared to be very worried.</p><p>Over at the Plaintiff’s table, Bethany appeared to be upset as well. She whispered something to Bloch, who all of a sudden dropped his calm composure. He put his head in his hands and started to cry softly. Margo Bennett Bloch noticed how upset her husband was and came quickly down from the gallery to ease his pain. Since her seat was on the far left side of the courtroom, she had to pass Mr. Clement’s wheelchair. As she did so, she muttered to Marge Berry, “You just had to come back, didn’t you? He was doing perfectly fine under our care.”</p><p>Marge quickly replied. “Care? Allowing your client to get into a major accident that leaves him like-like-like this is your idea of care?” She held her husband’s hand tightly as she spoke. Natalie got up to confront Margo, but Marge waved her away, assuring her daughter that she could take care of herself.</p><p>But Margo had more to say. “At least my daughters never whined to me when their father didn’t come home on time for their birthdays.”</p><p>Natalie sat right back down, looking like she wanted to cry.  Obviously, Margo’s last comment had cut her to the quick. But then Marge stood up and got right in Margo’s face. Even as emotionally fragile as she was, she still had the courage to defend her child. The room became silent, as everyone curiously watched the confrontation between the two women. </p><p>Marge was the first to speak. “You do NOT ever talk down to my daughter! Do I make myself clear, you rich old hag?”</p><p>“Well!” Margo said huffily. “I may be an old hag, but at least I’m a rich old hag, which means I have something to show for my many years of devotion to my loving husband.”</p><p>Marge laughed sarcastically. “Yes, other than knowing what he does or who he’s with during those long weekends away from home!  You should hear the things that Peter used to tell me about Bernie’s wild hotel nights. His favorite story involved Bernie’s visit to a certain hat check girl, in which the services of a mechanical horse were used. Till this day, from what I heard, that horse still hasn’t been fixed. Is it broken beyond repair, Margo? Like certain other relationships?”</p><p>Margo screamed and lunged at Marge, her long, red nails aimed at her face. Before she could get to her, Natalie got in the middle. The three women pulled each other’s hair and fought each other to the ground. Peter’s nurse pulled his wheelchair a few feet away to a safety zone. Bloch emerged from behind the Plaintiff’s table to run to his wife’s aid. Bethany followed quickly behind. Alan wanted to protect the Clement women, so he ran to the front to join in the scuffle. Soon he was followed by Denny, Sam and Patrick. Bill and the female bailiff with long, black hair quickly intervened to break up the fighting. </p><p>It took a full five minutes for Bill to separate the men. However, the women’s fighting lasted longer. The female bailiff got between Margo and Marge and worked hard to separate them. Finally, she prevailed and order was restored. She held onto Margo, while Bill gently held Marge. “You should all be ashamed of yourselves!” the female bailiff scolded. “I’m Nancy Onyx, the Assistant Chief Administrative Court Officer here. In all of my years here, I’ve never seen such a display of disrespect. I have a good mind to report you all to my boss. All of you could be brought up on charges, I tell you!”</p><p>Peter Clement motioned for his nurse to turn on his synthesizer. He signaled to his physical therapist to turn his wheelchair in Nancy’s direction. “Ex-cuse me, Of-fi-cer, please do-not-do-that. I-have-wait-ed-too-long-for-this-day.  My-wife-and-daug-ter-were-try-ing-to-pro-tect-me.  So-if-you-must-pun-ish some-one, pun-ish me, not-them.” </p><p>Obviously, Nancy was touched by this gentle man’s plea. There was something about him that made her want to listen to him. She sighed. “Very well, Mr. Clement. But this had better not happen again. Actually, I came out here to fetch the whole defense team-all three lawyers-and Mr. Thomason as well. The judge wishes to see all of you.” Denny, Alan, Sam and Patrick got up to follow Nancy.</p><p>Bethany wrinkled her brow. “Excuse me, Officer Onyx, did Judge Nantares wish to speak to me as well?”</p><p>The pretty court officer shook her head, with a gesture of annoyance. “Ms. Horowitz, if Judge Nantares wanted to speak with you, she would have asked for you. Since she did not, please just sit down and behave yourself, and try to encourage your clients to do the same.” </p><p>A very worried Bethany Horowitz sat down to join her clients.  Nancy turned to Bill. “Bill, make sure that nothing happens.  If any funny business happens while I’m with the judge, it will be your ass on the line, not mine.” </p><p>Bill nodded and straightened his posture. “Yes, ma’am.” </p><p>Nancy gestured to Denny who was in the lead, closely followed by Alan, Sam and Patrick. They silently followed the tough young woman. Patrick was worried, Sam was contemplative. Denny and Alan were silently enjoying the view of Nancy’s backside.</p><p>They walked through a door. That door led into another door. That door led into another door. That door led into another door. Finally, they reached the office of Judge Norah Nantares. Nancy opened the door and nodded to her ‘prisoners’ to enter. They all followed in line: Sam, Patrick, Alan, and Denny. They silently nodded to Paul, who was already there, sitting on a couch, maintaining an extremely serious expression on his face. </p><p>The judge nodded to the newcomers. “Gentlemen, please sit down.”  She indicated a couch, which was designed for two. The four men squeezed in next to each other uncomfortably. They sat opposite of Paul, who had a whole large, comfortable couch to himself. Obviously nobody wanted to sit with Paul, who looked as if he would like to strangle them all.          </p><p>An uncomfortable moment of silence passed. Alan was the first to speak. “So, is this what a crucifixion feels like?” </p><p>Sam responded analytically. “No, Alan, it’s probably less painful.” </p><p>Denny commented, “I wonder if any of those women at the crucifixion had a figure like Nancy over there.” He winked at her. She gave him a dirty look and closed the door behind her, standing guard outside.</p><p>Patrick was the first to speak. “Judge Nantares, Mr. Lewiston, please don’t kill my lawyers.”</p><p>Paul broke the tension with a laugh. “Nobody is getting killed today, Patrick. At least nobody in this room, anyway.”</p><p>The judge continued. “I apologize for all the secrecy. But I had some ethical concerns to worry about. You see, gentlemen, for many years the DA has had Bernard Bloch on a certain list of suspects of some very serious crimes. Up till now, we have not had enough evidence to bring charges against him. However, through today’s testimony, we might be able to finally make our case against him. Mr. Shore, Mr. Kimmel, your lines of questioning might’ve just been sufficient to put us over the edge. We might actually be able to nail this high profile, white collar criminal. I called in Mr. Lewiston because he has some connections to the DA’s office. Together, we made an emergency conference call to the District Attorney himself.”</p><p>Sam raised an eyebrow. “And what did he tell you that needs to be done?”</p><p>Paul continued where the judge left off. “Well, to begin with, Mr. Thomason needs to agree to testify. It’s his testimony which will most likely be the deal breaker here.”</p><p>All eyes turned toward Patrick. “I’ll do anything that I can to help, Mr. Lewiston.” </p><p>The judge smiled. “I was hoping for your cooperation, Mr. Thomason. Now here’s what we do-”</p><p>She was interrupted by a knock on the door. Nancy Onyx poked her head inside. “Judge Nantares, I’m sorry to interrupt. Ms. Horowitz has extended an offer. She wants Mr. Thomason’s attorneys to discuss the matter with him and let her know as to whether her terms are acceptable.” She came in holding two pieces of paper. One she handed to Sam. The other paper was given to the judge.</p><p>Judge Nantares opened her paper, while Sam did the same with his copy. She sighed and turned back to Nancy. “Thank you, Ms. Onyx. Tell Ms. Horowitz that we need some time to consider her offer. That will be all for now.” Nancy nodded and left, closing the door behind her.</p><p>Patrick and Alan looked over Sam’s shoulder. Paul looked on with the judge. Denny, who couldn’t be less interested, had dozed off and was sleeping in the corner of the sofa.</p><p>The judge spoke first. “That woman never ceases to amaze me.  Okay, let’s read the offer carefully.” </p><p>Sam took up where the judge left off. “The plaintiff agrees to drop all charges against Mr. Thomason, in addition to paying him a flat $250,000. In exchange, Mr. Thomason must agree not to disclose anything that was said in the courtroom during the course of this trial to the District Attorney.”</p><p>Alan sighed. “She must have suspected something when Paul was called in to speak with you. She apparently remembered that Paul has connections with the District Attorney’s office. She sensed that we were considering bringing her client up on charges.”</p><p>Paul smirked. “So, she cleverly advised Bloch to drop the case against young Patrick here, in addition to offering to buy his silence with the DA with a sizable payoff.” </p><p>Alan grunted. “Devious, fiendish, outlandishly deceitful-I couldn’t have done better myself.”</p><p>Paul put up one finger. “However, she did so in such a way that she was not breaking the law herself. Notice the wording of her offer. It is phrased carefully in a way in which nobody could question its legality.”</p><p>Sam scratched his chin. “Indeed, nobody could doubt the plaintiff’s financial abilities to make this thing come together. One word from us and he’ll have his checkbook in hand and the papers ready to sign.”</p><p>Alan sneered. “Ms. Horror Witch is probably drawing up the papers now, in anticipation of a sure settlement.”</p><p>Judge Nantares listened carefully to all that was said, while Denny snored away. “Well, in one respect, we’re back where we started from when you first walked in. The ball is in Mr. Thomason’s court. He still has to decide whether to testify against Bloch when the DA arrives here.”</p><p>Alan swallowed hard. “The DA is coming here-now?!”</p><p>Paul sighed embarrassingly. “Yes, Mr. Shore, you see, the judge and I did not anticipate Ms. Horowitz’ offer. Given the circumstances, we had no reasonable basis for believing that Patrick would not testify for the DA. Therefore, we gave him our word that it would be so. He’s on his way here now. He should be arriving within the hour.”</p><p>The judge looked seriously at Patrick. “But Mr. Thomason, you must understand that our case with Mr. Bloch is really not your problem. Your attorneys would likely assure you that you would be well within your rights to accept the offer that’s on the table now.”</p><p>Sam put his arm around Patrick’s shoulders. “Yes, Patrick, the judge is right. As a matter of fact, you would probably stand a better chance of coming out ahead if you accepted the offer than you would if you took your chances with the jury.”</p><p>Alan nodded slowly. “Yes, Patrick, listen to Sam. This morning, we were given a note by the jury foreman that juror number four, the home health care worker, had to be excused because of a death in her family.”</p><p>Sam continued. “She would therefore be replaced by First Alternate #1, the overseas corporate banker. That narrows our chances even more, son. In a civil case, all that is needed is one hostile vote in the wrong direction and we’re sunk. Up till now, you had no choice. You had to go with the jury. Now, you have options. As your lawyers, we would be ethically obligated to advise you that it would be in your best interests to accept the plaintiff’s offer.”</p><p>Patrick thought for a moment. “Assuming that I do so, what would happen to Mr. Bloch?”</p><p>The judge paused for a moment and then answered his question.  “No doubt Ms. Horowitz advised him to skip town as soon as the papers are signed and the check is given to you. So, he’ll be out of here like a bat out of hell within the next five minutes if you agree to his offer now. Then when the DA comes here, no doubt a warrant may be issued for his arrest, if he still believes there to be grounds for doing so.”</p><p>Patrick’s face reddened. “What do you mean, ‘if there are grounds?’ You guys said a minute ago that we could nail him through my testimony!”</p><p>Sam slowly answered, “Patrick, I believe you overlooked the terms of the proposed agreement. By accepting Mr. Bloch’s offer, the main condition which is imposed upon you is your agreement not to testify.”</p><p>Alan continued, “Yes, so even if you decided to change your mind later, anything that you would say would not be admissible anyway. It would be, as we refer to it, ‘fruit of a poisonous tree.’” </p><p>Paul leaned on the armrest of his couch. “Yes, and since your testimony would at that point not be relevant, anyway, then there is a good chance that the DA would not have sufficient cause to issue a warrant. He could build up more evidence through interviews with all the lawyers and the family of Mr. Clement.  However, it probably won’t be enough for his purposes to come forward with an official indictment. The DA needs your testimony, Mr. Thomason. You’re the only person who has the power to completely shut down Bernard Bloch.” </p><p>Alan turned angrily to Paul. “Paul, leave him alone! You couldn’t possibly expect him to turn down an offer like this! How many guys his age who grew up in the projects have any kind of an opportunity to get a real break in this life?”</p><p>Sam took up the argument. “Paul, if you had met Patrick’s mother, you would understand his position. She’s a sweet old lady in her seventies, loving, caring and always looking out for her son. She walks around on an old walker because she can’t afford a decent wheelchair. The project apartment in which she lives is rat and roach infested. She can barely make ends meet on her Social Security because of this lopsided economy, which robs from the poor to give to the rich. That woman has sacrificed so much, in the hope that her son might someday have the opportunity to have a better life than herself. Doesn’t she deserve some happiness, Paul? Doesn’t she deserve to see her son do well in life and be in a position to make a respectable living for himself?” Sam, who still had his arm around Patrick’s shoulders, gave him a fatherly hug. “Patrick, I advise you to take the offer.”</p><p>Patrick looked at Sam, Alan, Paul and the judge for a possible response. Nobody said a word. Least of all Denny, because he was still asleep. Slowly, Patrick picked himself up and paced around, the tail of his costume dragging on the carpet behind him. There was a long moment of silence before he finally spoke.</p><p>“You’re right, Mr. Kimmel, my mother would want me to have the chance to make a respectable living for myself. However, making a deal with someone like Bernard Bloch is far from any level of respectability. My mother would not want me to sacrifice my honor to win a case. She brought me up to be honest, decent and respectful to my elders. Mr. Bloch needs to pay for what he has done to Mr. Clement, and many actors who are in a similar position. Mr. Bloch needs to pay for all the times that he has deprived other talented authors of the opportunity to be given a chance to succeed as writers.” He stopped pacing, stood up straight and said gravely, “I therefore reject this offer.”</p><p>Paul Lewiston, who hardly ever put on any show of emotion, got up and gave the younger man a big hug. “Patrick, you are an inspiration to all of us. No matter what happens with the jury verdict, you will always have legal allies to help you at Crane, Poole and Schmidt.” Secretly, with a touch of sadness, Paul thought about his own daughter, who was not too much older than Patrick. He wondered how a young girl who was brought up with every financial advantage that any child could ever hope for could wind up as an irresponsible drug addict. He wondered about the young man who stood before him, who had one bad break after another and no sense of financial security. How many people in Patrick’s situation would make the same noble decision as this poor young man? Paul felt inspired and sad at the same time.</p><p>Alan and Sam didn’t say a word. They just warmly gave Patrick a pat on the shoulder. Judge Nantares got up and kissed him lightly on the cheek. Denny Crane was still sleeping. The judge sat down again, looked at her guests and then gestured that everyone else should sit down again too. “Okay, now that we’ve settled on Mr. Thomason’s status as a witness, we need to make sure that his sacrifice is not wasted. If we outright reject Bloch’s offer, he’ll probably bug out faster than we could blink an eye. </p><p>“In case you didn’t notice, there’s a Unimount company limousine waiting outside the court building. If he leaves within the next five minutes, he could get to the airport by the time that the DA arrives. So, he could be on his way to the airport to hop a plane to anywhere out of the country by the time that Patrick finishes testifying. Then the DA will have to contend with messy extradition orders, which could keep him from being indicted for the next ten years.”</p><p>Alan continued. “And the statute of limitations for half of the things that he could be indicted on would have expired by the time that we could get him back here to our country.”</p><p>Patrick looked confused. “But I don’t understand, Your Honor.  How could Mr. Bloch just walk out of here in the middle of a case?”</p><p>Sam answered the young man’s question. “Under ordinary circumstances, you would be right. However, Unimount Incorporated is managed by two controlling partners, Bernard Bloch and Margo Bennett Bloch. So, if he should walk out and leave the courtroom, she could immediately take over in his place.”</p><p>Alan nodded slowly. “And at this point in time, we have no legal grounds to hold him here.  He is legally free to go at any time.”</p><p>Sam smiled mischievously. “Unless we could find a way to make him want to stay here. Give him something to stay here for. Remember, he has no idea that the DA is on his way now.”</p><p>Paul actually smiled too. “I like the way that you’re thinking, Sam. Nor do we have any real legal obligation to reveal such information to him.  Nor are there any set ways to reject an offer.” </p><p>Sam wrinkled his brow thoughtfully. “Indeed, we could make him think that we are accepting his offer, when in fact we have absolutely no intention of doing so. It all depends on the wording of Patrick’s response, gentlemen.”</p><p>Judge Nantares chimed in. “But we need to proceed with caution.  Bethany Horowitz knows her way around the legal system quite well, so we’ll need to convince her as well.”</p><p>Alan paced thoughtfully. “Okay, we have Patrick’s rejection, veiled behind an ambiguous response-yeah, that will work. However, we need some diversion to kill time. We need to have Bloch here with us when the DA arrives. We also need Bloch and Ms. Horror Witch to be completely comfortable with the illusion that Patrick has accepted the offer, or will definitely do so soon, and will therefore not testify.”  </p><p>Paul smiled slowly as he fiddled with his tie. “We first need to concentrate on the wording of Patrick’s response. Remember, gentlemen, we want to be deliberately misleading. Alan, any ideas?”</p><p>Alan rose to the occasion. “I’m glad you asked. Here’s what we do. We make Bloch think that Patrick will accept the offer, but he’s holding out for more money. So we make the note open-ended. It will say something to the effect of ‘We will speak with you after closing arguments’”. </p><p>Sam said, “That doesn’t completely solve our problem. We need to give Bloch a complete false sense of security. Remember, he has to be comfortable enough to remain in the courtroom until the DA arrives. That could be about an hour or so. We need to have the closing that will end all closings. Now who do we know that could just ramble on and on aimlessly as he makes his closing argument?” As he spoke, he looked right at Denny, who let out a loud snore. </p><p>Alan and Paul both looked at Denny, then at Sam and nodded. </p><p>Alan said cheerfully, “That’ll work.” Even the judge smiled.  But her expression became serious. </p><p>“Now, gentlemen, we have to put on a convincing show, not only for Mr. Bloch, but for Ms. Horowitz as well. Everything has to be legally intact. First, we need to make Mr. Bloch believe that young Patrick here is throwing in the towel. All of you, including myself, are going to have to hone our acting skills.  Patrick, do you have your cell phone on you? You’re going to have to make a few calls to your fellow <em>Galaxy Guards</em> fans...”</p><p>********</p><p>The courtroom was still noisy, although the judge, the defendant and the whole defense team were gone for almost an hour.  Members of the press congregated together to compare notes. Meanwhile, Bernard Bloch, along with his wife and attorney, were contemplating a note from Patrick Thomason which warmed the cockles of the Bloch’s mercenary hearts. It said: “Dear Ms. Horowitz, as much as I would like to accept your present offer, I do have an elderly mother to take care of. Your present offer would enable me to pay off my lawyers, who have been so helpful to me. But it wouldn’t help me move my mother out of the projects, the way I promised her I would when I became a successful writer. Since the house I bought her is already paid off, all I need is to get Mom out of the projects and into the house. Unfortunately, your offer is not generous enough to pay both the movers and my lawyers. Since Crane, Poole and Schmidt do not work Pro Bono-at least not for me-I have to pay them first before I pay for anything else. But please stay after closing arguments, if you have another offer for me to consider. I would very much like to speak to you personally.”       </p><p>“You see that?” Margo pointed to the letter with one long, red talon. “He keeps calling it our ‘present’ offer. He’s fishing for more money!”</p><p>“Of course he is, my dear,” Bloch said fondly. “After all, he is a starving young writer, just like I was once. If he wants more money, I say we give it to him.”</p><p> </p><p>Bethany looked suspicious. “I have a bad feeling about this, Margo. I think that they’re up to something.  Let’s see what happens when the judge returns with the defense team.”</p><p>As if on cue, a round of loud shouting came out from the area where the judge’s chambers were set up. Everyone in the gallery suddenly became silent.</p><p>Patrick’s voice thundered, “NO! NO! NO! I don’t want to discuss it, Mr. Shore!” A very angry Patrick Thomason, still in full costume (except for the facial mask) emerged. His tail dragged briskly behind him as he stomped along on his clawed, rubbery feet.</p><p>Alan Shore came out next. He appeared to be angry as well as he stomped after Patrick. “How could you even consider doing such a thing? You disgust me!”</p><p>Next appeared Sam Kimmel. “Alan, I understand how you feel, but you need to calm down.”</p><p>Paul Lewiston came out next. “Mr. Shore, Patrick Thomason is our client. We are under contract to follow his orders.”</p><p>Alan responded, “He’s your client, Paul! I’m sitting this one out.”</p><p>The judge came out of her chambers’ door and everyone in the gallery stood. She was followed by Denny Crane, who needed to make some wardrobe adjustments. He clanked along slowly. </p><p>“Silence, everyone!” the judge ordered. She turned to the gallery. “You may all be seated.” Everyone sat down.</p><p>She continued. “Okay, now let’s settle this, once and for all. Mr. Shore, you refuse to participate in Mr. Thomason’s defense. Is that true?”</p><p>Alan self-righteously came forward. “Your Honor, in all good conscience, I could not get behind something that I do not agree with. With your permission, I will let Mr. Kimmel and Mr. Crane take my place in the closing arguments.”</p><p>The judge sighed. “Very well. Mr. Kimmel?”</p><p>Sam came forward as well. “Regretfully, Your Honor, I must agree with my colleague, Mr. Shore. I cannot support our client’s reckless course of action.” </p><p>Judge Nantares shifted uncomfortably. “Mr. Crane?”</p><p>Denny came forward confidently. “I’m with my client all the way! Denny Crane, for the defense! Need I say more?”</p><p>The judge and Paul Lewiston appeared to be very worried. Paul impulsively came forward to address Sam and Alan. “I would say that you two should be ashamed of yourselves, but neither of you has any shame.” </p><p>Alan came forward. “Now, just a minute, Paul. You’ve gone way too far!” He came forward to face Paul directly, glaring at him threateningly. The judge banged her gavel, while Bill separated the two men. </p><p>“That’s enough!” snapped Judge Nantares. “Mr. Lewiston, sit over there near the Clements. Mr. Shore and Mr. Kimmel, you two sit by me. I want to watch you both.” The three lawyers listened to her and took their respective seats. </p><p>At the Plaintiff’s table, Bethany whispered to Bloch. “I can’t believe what luck we’re having. Their two big power hitters, Kimmel and Shore, have just dropped out.”</p><p>Bloch wasn’t convinced. “What about Crane?”</p><p>Bethany made a dismissive gesture with her hand. “He’s a buffoon. Don’t worry about him. After closing, we’ll have our little talk with Mr. Thomason and we’ll sign the papers. Don’t worry, it will all work out.”</p><p>The judge turned to Bethany. “Ms. Horowitz, it’s your turn to close.”</p><p>The confident young lawyer hopped to her feet and walked forward to face the jury. “Thank you, Your Honor. Thank you, ladies and gentlemen of the jury. We have to admit that the defense team really put on a great show here. They were all quite entertaining. Maybe they should all quit their day jobs and join the circus.” She expected the courtroom to erupt in laughter, but all was quiet. She silently wondered how the audience could laugh at Denny’s oil can joke, but not find her attempt at humor to be worthy of consideration.  She continued.</p><p>“Aside from everything else, we need to keep this simple. It is simply a case of definition. The concept of ‘copyright infringement’ was well defined. No matter how much you may sympathize with the defendant, the truth is this: He went too far with his creative license. No matter what your feelings are about this case, remember, the law is here to protect everyone. And that includes you yourselves, jurors. Your rights cannot be protected if just one person who breaks the law goes free. Therefore, you must find for the plaintiff. Thank you.” She sat down.</p><p>Judge Nantares whispered to Alan, who was sitting beside her.  “Not bad. Short and sweet.” </p><p>Alan shook his head. “Short, but not sweet.” The judge stifled a laugh. </p><p>Sam whispered to Alan. “Denny is going to have his hands full.  Do you think he’s up to it?”</p><p>Alan quickly responded. “Denny always rises to the occasion.” </p><p>The judge quickly whispered. “That’s news to me. Forty years ago, he was not able to do so.” She gave a quick smile. </p><p>Bill couldn’t help but overhear. “Your Honor, you mean that Mr. Crane had trouble standing up?”</p><p>The judge quickly answered. “You might say that, Bill.”</p><p>Alan and Sam laughed like two schoolboys. “Quiet!” the judge whispered sternly. “We need to keep a serious demeanor until the DA gets here. Let’s hope that Patrick’s friends in the gallery remember their parts.” She turned to the courtroom. “Mr. Crane, it’s your turn to close for the defense.”                    </p><p>Denny Crane got up and took his time, adjusting his robot suit. Off to the side, Paul Lewiston sat next to the Clements. He whispered in Marge’s ear about their little “diversionary tactic”. Marge whispered to Natalie, who whispered to her father. In a moment, Peter Clement’s face broke out into a big smile. It was the first time that he smiled in a long time and it felt good. </p><p>Denny began, “In the 1600’s, before America even existed, there was this man named Guttenberg. He was a tinkerer of sorts, perhaps sort of like the Benjamin Franklin of his time. He invented something that we know today as the printing press.  And the first thing that he published on his new revolutionary invention was a book called the Bible.” </p><p>An angry female voice came from the back of the room. “Denny Crane, you’ll burn for this! What do you know about the Bible? You have five ex-wives, for goodness sake!” an “enraged” Catherine Piper shouted from the rear of the gallery. </p><p>“That’s six, actually,” Denny corrected. </p><p>Bethany stood up. “Your Honor, I object! This crazy woman has no place in our courtroom!” </p><p>The judge banged her gavel. “You already presented your case, Ms. Horowitz. Please afford the defense the same courtesy. Whoever this woman is, whatever she said does not damage your case in one way or another. Let Mr. Crane take his time in presenting his case. Are you in a rush to leave for some reason?”</p><p>Bethany shook her head sheepishly. </p><p>The judge continued. “Mr. Crane deserves his time. If you object again, I’m going to hold you in contempt. As far as crazy people are concerned, if I threw out every crazy person from my courtroom, nobody would be here right now. Please continue, Mr. Crane.”</p><p>Denny continued. “Now, what was I talking about? Oh yes, my six ex-wives. If you read the Bible, madam, you’ll read about kings who have hundreds of wives and concubines. The Bible is just full of stories like that. Stories that have been copied over and over again. Copies of copies. Copies of copies of copies.  Stories that have been retold and rewritten, ad infinitum.  People base their lives on this book that, ironically, has no copyright to anyone. I wonder if Matthew, Mark, Luke and John were still alive today, who do you think that they’d be suing for misinterpreting their writings? Where would they even begin? The publishers who copied the Bible were not bad people. Those who interpreted the Bible in their own way were not bad people either. Lives were saved, nations were built based on the interpretations-or even misinterpretations-of that one book. At some point in time, we stop wondering as to what is truth. Does it even matter anymore?</p><p>“So many inspirational songs were just given to the public with no copyright, why? Simply because they have been so much used and reused that they belong to everyone. Consider the <em>‘Battle Hymn of The Republic,’ </em>if you will. That song was rumored to be one of President Abraham Lincoln’s favorites. As a matter of fact, the Grand Chancellor of the Intergalactic Federation sang it in episode 5 of the second season of <em>Galaxy Guards</em>. Would these beautiful words need a copyright?” He stood up straighter and sang the words slowly in his usual out-of-key monotone.</p><p>          “Gl-ory, Gl-ory Hal-le-lu-jah,</p><p>          Gl-ory, Gl-ory Hal-le-lu-jah-”</p><p>Denny’s singing was interrupted by a furious female <em>Galaxy Guards</em> fan. “You schmuck, that’s not the way it was sung!” yelled a woman with short, brown hair and silver aviator eyeglasses from the back of the courtroom; she wore jeans and a tee shirt with Dr. Esther Burke’s picture on it. “The Grand Chancellor was a woman and sang it in a much higher pitch. Come on, ladies, let’s show this moron how it’s done!”     </p><p>A group of five women, also in <em>Galaxy Guards </em>tee shirts, gathered around her and started to sing the song word for word, very slowly, for emphasis. It took a full ten minutes for the gallery chorus to get through every verse of the song. Applause erupted from everywhere, except the Plaintiff’s table. </p><p>Denny put his head down and looked sad. “I’m so sorry. You ladies were just so good that I-I am taken aback. I need a moment to compose myself.”</p><p>The judge banged her gavel. “Five minute recess.”</p><p>Meanwhile, a group of ten pretty girls clad in nothing but short, white togas and Roman sandals, wearing plastic manacles and chains around their wrists that had been spray-painted gold, came down the side aisle from the spectators gallery. They approached the Plaintiff’s table and stood before Mr. Bloch, giggling like schoolgirls. The boldest of them, a pretty blonde in a well-filled toga, approached him.</p><p>“Oh, Mr. Bloch, my friends and I came all the way from the West Coast to see you for your autograph. We’re such big fans of yours. We love you, Mr. Bloch. You wrote such wonderful scripts for all of us to enjoy. As you notice, we’re all dressed like Milsyrian slave women. I read in the papers that you thought of that concept all by yourself. It’s so nice to finally meet you in person.” She gave him a big hug, while Margo’s face reddened with jealousy. She and Bernie both knew very well that the Milsyrian slave women episode had been ghostwritten by Ellis Harlequin, but neither she nor her husband were in a hurry to correct the young woman. </p><p>Another girl, a bosomy brunette, continued.  “We heard that yesterday was your birthday.  You know that we get together to celebrate it every year? How old are you, may I ask?”</p><p>A flattered Bernard Bloch answered shyly, “A gentleman never reveals his age, my dear.”</p><p>Margo was quick to remedy that issue. “He was just 77 years old yesterday, my dear.”</p><p>“Thank you, Margo,” Bloch said with a forced smile.</p><p>A third girl with long, red hair gave a sexy smile and got up closer to Bloch. “I find older men to be so sexy.”</p><p>They all took out items for him to autograph. Bloch was in his element. He took his time and enjoyed every moment of it, while his wife did a slow burn. The girl who was last on the line gave him a big kiss on one cheek. Her lips came perilously close to Bloch’s, who was pulled away at the last moment by Margo. The slave girl smiled at him and said proudly, “The ten of us have come up with a song to pay tribute to you. We’d like to sing it to you.” They all broke out in song, to the tune of <em>“For the Benefit of Mr. Kite”</em>, by The Beatles.</p><p>“For the benefit of Mr. Bloch,</p><p>A man we find so very hot,</p><p>We’ll celebrate!</p><p>"For the benefit of Mr. Bloch,</p><p>A man we find so very hot,</p><p>We’ll eat chocolate cake!</p><p>"For the benefit of Mr. Bloch,</p><p>A man we find so very hot,</p><p>We’ll sing and prance!</p><p>"For the benefit of Mr. Bloch,</p><p>A man we find so very hot,</p><p>We’ll do the cherry dance!”</p><p>While the slave girls were singing, other merry fans were passing out bottles of homemade Gorean Ale to everyone. Bill confiscated one, saying that no alcoholic beverages were allowed in court. The man he took it from, costumed as a Klaxon, assured him that there was no alcohol in it, just pina colada punch mixed with ginger ale. Denny Crane, who had already drained one bottle and was halfway through a second one, sputtered and said, “What? No alcohol? Damn!” and threw away the half-empty bottle. </p><p>Margo Bennett finally had enough; she got up and pushed the girls away. “Enough! We have a trial to get through here!”</p><p>Alan turned to the judge and whispered frantically, “Your Honor, do something! We need to kill more time.”</p><p>She nodded to him. “I’m on it, Mr. Shore.” She turned to Margo. “Mrs. Bennett, those girls were doing nothing wrong. They were exercising their constitutional right to freedom of speech. They were doing nothing to hurt your case. Why are you so concerned about getting this trial done and over with quickly? I’m curious. Is there something that you would like to share with us?”</p><p>Margo nervously smiled. “Oh no, Your Honor.” </p><p>“Good, then sit down!” She obeyed quickly. The judge turned to Denny. “Mr. Crane, are you ready to continue?”</p><p>Denny got up, looking embarrassed. “Your Honor, I’m ashamed to say that I drank too much of that Gorean ale and need to pay a visit to the little boy’s room.” </p><p>The judge nodded officially. “Noted, Mr. Crane. By all means, answer the call of nature.” Denny slowly creaked and rattled as he left the room. </p><p>The judge turned to see the slave girls clustering round the Blochs again. One of them was just finishing getting her picture autographed. Bloch looked a little uncomfortable as he was getting writer’s cramp, signing a picture dedicated to a family dog named “Aramis.” Judge Nantares said to him, “Are you okay, Mr. Bloch?” </p><p>Bloch responded nervously, “My hands are just a little tired, Your Honor. Perhaps I need a breath of fresh air.”</p><p>Judge Nantares smiled sympathetically. “What a shame. You’ll miss the dance.”</p><p>“Dance?” he asked curiously.</p><p>“Yes, while we’re waiting for Mr. Crane to come back from the men’s room, I was hoping that the girls would give us a little demonstration of the Cherry Dance, also known as the Dance of the Virgins, as it appeared in season 2, episode 6. I think I missed that one.” </p><p>Bloch swallowed hard.  He remembered that episode well. “I guess I could stay here a little bit longer.” </p><p>One girl turned on a portable CD player. Exotic music, filled with drums, sitars and cymbals, came out from the player. The girls slowly gathered in a circle and started to belly dance. They were bumping and grinding for at least ten minutes. Bloch was thoroughly enjoying himself. Margo was drumming her long, red fingernails against the desk, looking as if she wanted to dig them into her husband’s eyes instead. She kept glancing at her watch nervously. </p><p>At the end of the dance, everyone applauded. Denny was back by that time. He clapped enthusiastically.       </p><p>The judge smiled. “Thank you, girls. Very well done.  Mr. Crane, are we ready?”</p><p>Denny slowly stepped forward. “Yes, Your Honor.” He turned to face the jury. “There are many things involved here, ladies and gentlemen. This is a case of honor, damn it! All honor must be defended. That is, after all, what America is all about.” </p><p>Meanwhile, Clarence, who was in the back of the courtroom standing guard, watched the doors slowly open. Four well-dressed figures appeared, three men and one woman. The man in the lead wore a well-tailored black suit with a white shirt and a bright red tie. He was about 60 and bald. The man by his side was a little bit taller and about fifteen years younger. He had short, black hair and wore a beard. He also wore a black suit and a bright red tie.  In back of them were two police officers in civilian clothing, wearing gold badges around their necks; one was a big, muscular, bearded African-American man, the other was a tall, slender woman with short, blonde hair, who resembled Natalie Clement a little bit. Jerry, who was standing next to Clarence, knew the DA personally. “Good afternoon, sir,” he said shyly.</p><p>“Good afternoon, Mr. Espinson. I do hope that you’re behaving yourself?” the older man said in a playful tone. He spoke with a refined Bostonian accent, obviously a graduate of Harvard University.</p><p>Jerry peeped nervously and smiled. “Oh, yes sir.” </p><p>The older man nodded at Clarence as well. “Mr. Bell, I’ve heard some good things about your abilities as an attorney. You could go far with the DA’s office, but please try to restrain your private obsessions. Just for the record, red is not your color.” He smiled and patted Clarence on the back.</p><p>“Yes, sir,” Clarence responded sheepishly. The group of six stood quietly observing Denny.</p><p>Jerry whispered to Clarence, “Oh dear, we can’t allow this to go on for too much longer.”</p><p>“Yeah,” Clarence agreed, “they’ll indict the wrong man at the rate that we’re going here.” He took out his cell phone and dialed Alan’s number. </p><p>Alan picked up and almost jumped for joy. “They’re here!” he whispered to the judge and Sam. </p><p>Sam smiled. “Now all we need to do is to get Denny’s attention.”  He waved to Denny, who didn’t see him at all. Likewise, Alan stood out further to do the same. </p><p>The judge held him back. “Gentlemen, we can’t be too obvious.  I can’t interrupt Denny right now, or else Bloch would know that something is wrong.”</p><p>Denny continued. “Our founding fathers have established a nation-a nation of freedom and liberty. Choice, yes. But originality? Certainly not! What exactly, after all, is original, may I ask? Even the cell phones that we use could be considered throwbacks from sci-fi technology that hadn’t been invented yet... ”</p><p>At the Plaintiff’s table, Bloch started to get bored. Bethany appeared worried. Margo was digging her nails into the desk in front of her. </p><p>At the side table where the Clements were sitting, Paul was attentive. He actually saw where Denny was coming from. The Clement women were fast asleep, each one on a different shoulder of beloved husband and father. Peter Clement, for his part, was thoroughly enjoying himself. </p><p>Sam whispered to Alan, “We have to do something to get Denny’s attention.”</p><p>Alan snapped his fingers. “I know!”  He turned to the judge and pointed to her Fribble. “May I borrow this for one second, your honor?” </p><p>She shrugged. “Sure, why not?”</p><p>Alan took the little stuffed toy. He then wrote a note on a piece of paper, folded it, and used a rubber band to secure it to the Fribble. “I hope that my throwing arm is still good,” he said to Sam. He carefully aimed the toy in Denny’s direction and then threw the Fribble so that it landed squarely on Denny’s head.</p><p>“Bullseye!” Sam smiled as he patted Alan on the back. </p><p>It certainly caught Denny’s attention. He stopped and picked up the toy. “Even these things. Are they original? Is this an official Unitmount Fribble?”</p><p>Bethany and Margo each put their hand over Bloch’s mouth, to stop him from correcting Denny. </p><p>Denny continued, as he examined the toy. “Just as I thought, made in China. Damn, those Chinese are taking over everything, aren’t they?” He noticed the note and took it out to read. “I suppose this is their idea of a fortune cookie, which, mind you, is not original either. Well, let’s read my fortune.” Denny unfolded the paper. “Hmm, it says, ‘Denny, wrap it up quickly. The DA is here.’” Denny looked confused and then looked at the back of the courtroom and noticed the four newcomers.  He waved to the bald man. “Oh! Hello, Simon.” </p><p>Bloch got up in a frenzy, so quickly that he accidentally knocked Bethany sideways out of her chair. She picked herself up as he yelled at Denny. “You son of a bitch, you set us up!”   </p><p>The two detectives who entered the room with the DA came forward at once and stood on either side of Bloch. The DA and his bearded assistant came forward more slowly. “Why are you leaving in such a hurry, Bernard?” asked the older gentleman. “We have some things to discuss.” A red-faced Bloch was so angry that he couldn’t speak. </p><p>The DA went on. “Judge Nantares, I am sorry to interrupt your proceedings.” He turned to the gallery. “For those of you who don’t know me, my name is L. Simon Jarrod, the District Attorney for the Commonwealth. My associates are Assistant DA Franklin Jerome and Chief Court Officers Daniel Michaels and Trisha Young. Judge Nantares, please finish your business here. We will wait until you charge the jury before we proceed with our business.” </p><p>The judge smiled. “Thank you, Mr. Jarrod. Mr. Crane, please wrap up your closing.”</p><p>Denny turned to the jury. “Ladies and gentlemen, I only ask you one thing: Use your hearts and your common sense. If we have proven nothing else, we have shown you that there is more to a case than a coldhearted definition in a dictionary. You need to think outside of the box, if you will. No pun intended. Denny Crane for the defense.” He tipped his funnel-shaped hat and the audience applauded.</p><p>The judge nodded to Denny, who sat down next to Sam. “Thank you, Mr. Crane. Now I need to charge the jury. Madam Foreperson and members of the jury, you need to concentrate on the facts of the case. I cannot emphasize that enough. You need to be objective. Accusations were made. Some may be true, others unproven. But you need not pay attention to any such testimony. The only case which is your obligation to focus on here is <em>Unichmount v. Thomason</em>.” An embarrassed silence fell over the courtroom. The judge knew that she had said something wrong, but did not remember how to correct herself. </p><p>Denny leaned over and whispered to her courteously, “That’s Unimount, Your Honor.”</p><p>The judge’s eyes widened, as she whispered to Bill. “Damn, now he has me doing it!” She turned back to the jury box. “Excuse me, ladies and gentlemen, that’s <em>Unimount v. Thomason. </em>Do you all believe that you could ascertain the facts here and use them to render a fair verdict?”</p><p>The jury members all nodded and affirmed, “Yes.”</p><p>The judge nodded her head. “Very well. The jury is dismissed to deliberate.” </p><p>The twelve members of the jury left with Bill, who escorted them into an adjacent room.</p><p>Now, all attention was focused on the DA and his associates. Bloch sat motionless, like a statue. Bethany was the first to speak. She addressed the judge. “Your Honor, may council approach the bench with the defendant? I would like to settle a certain matter.”</p><p>The judge nodded. “Go ahead. Defense lawyers and Mr. Thomason, please approach the bench.”</p><p>The judge’s bench was crowded with the lawyers and Patrick standing around in full circle. The DA, the Blochs, the Clements and the press just looked on in silence. </p><p>Bethany faced Patrick. “Mr. Thomason, I’m confused. I thought that you had something to say to Mr. Bloch in terms of a negotiation of sorts? Something that you promised to discuss after the closing?” She showed the judge Bloch’s copy of the note. </p><p>The judge pretended to read it with serious intent. Finally, she responded to Bethany. “You’re right, Ms. Horowitz. Let’s call Mr. Bloch over and get this settled right now. Mr. Bloch?”  Bloch nervously got up and meekly approached the bench.</p><p>“Mr. Thomason,” the judge now said to him, “according to this note, you have something to say to Mr. Bloch. Do you care to share that matter with the court, son?”</p><p>Patrick, pretending to be nervous, spoke up. “Yes, I do.” He then looked Bernard Bloch in the face and said, “Mr. Bloch, I think that you’re a lousy person. You’re disrespectful, phony and pretentious. You use your power to hurt people and I hope that the DA puts you away for a long time. I therefore reject your offer.” </p><p>Bethany said indignantly, “But, Your Honor, you see that note, don’t you? He’s almost offering to negotiate with us! Can’t you see that?”</p><p>Judge Nantares smiled sympathetically. “I’m sorry, Ms. Horowitz. I see no such promise in this note. He promised to talk with Mr. Bloch after the closing, which he just did.”</p><p>Bethany continued. “But what about all the bellyaching about his mother being in the projects, lawyer’s bills and everything else?”</p><p>Sam answered. “All that is true, Ms. Horowitz. Our client was just writing to you how serious his financial situation is for his mother and himself. Nowhere is he promising to accept any offers from Mr. Bloch.”</p><p>Bloch spoke up in one last desperate attempt to negotiate. He tried to put his arm around Patrick, who pulled away. “Patrick, my boy, what about the arguing that we heard when you and the lawyers came back from your meeting? Weren’t you indicating to Mr. Shore that you would work with us?”</p><p>Patrick shook his head. “No, Mr. Bloch. We were discussing what we were going to eat for lunch later.” He pulled out a menu from a seafood restaurant and showed it to Mr. Bloch. “You see, this particular restaurant serves two different types of salmon, wild and farmed. Mr. Shore and Mr. Kimmel feel very strongly about eating wild salmon, as opposed to that which is farmed.  Mr. Crane, Mr. Lewiston and I, however, prefer farmed salmon. I’m sorry if anything that we discussed was misleading to you in any way.”       </p><p>Margo Bennett Bloch took the opportunity to handle the situation in her own way. She quickly sidled up to Mr. Jarrod and put her arm in his. “Oh, come now, Simon, I’m sure that we could settle this silly misunderstanding. Why don’t you and I go off alone together so we can discuss the matter?” </p><p>Simon Jarrod pulled away from her quickly. “Unhand me, Mrs. Bloch, I have a job to do here!” He motioned to the court officers. “Officers, do your duty.” </p><p>The African-American man gestured for Bloch to put his hands behind his back. He handcuffed the older man and said officially, “Bernard Bloch, you are under arrest to be held for suspicion of several Federal Crimes. You have the right to remain silent...”</p><p>Everyone listened as Bloch was informed of his rights and taken into custody. The female court officer stood on the other side, watching the suspect carefully.</p><p>The DA appeared to be pleased. He addressed the judge. “Norah, I am positively exhausted from my trip getting here. Since everyone that I wish to question is here now, may I impose upon you to use one of the side rooms to begin our interrogation?”</p><p>The judge nodded. “Certainly, we try and stay here at least until the end of the day in the hope of getting a quick verdict.  I’m sure that the attorneys wouldn’t mind sticking around. You may use the second room to the left.” She indicated which room to use by pointing to it with her left hand.     </p><p>Mr. Jarrod nodded respectfully. He turned to Patrick. “Young man, I appreciate your high standard of honor and truth. You are a credit to your community. Most people in your position would not hesitate to take the money and run. You did the good and noble thing. The DA’s office will not forget your good deed. Shall we go and begin the proceedings?”</p><p>Judge Nantares smiled mischievously.  “Ah, Simon, could you do without Mr. Crane for a little while? I’d like to have a little talk with him.”</p><p>Jarrod smiled. “Oh, surely, Norah. Denny and I go back a long ways. Just make sure that you dust him off and clean him up before you return him to us.”</p><p>Denny looked worried. The judge picked up on this. “Don’t worry, Mr. Crane, I won’t hurt you. Unless you misbehave, of course.”</p><p>Jarrod honestly felt sorry for Denny, but he did nothing to interfere. He just said briskly, “Very well, Mr. Bloch, Ms. Horowitz, Mr. Kimmel, Mr. Shore, Mr. Lewiston, and star witness Mr. Thomason, we have work to do.”</p><p>Jarrod and his entourage exited, along with the defendant, the team of lawyers, constables and their special witness. A few reporters followed along.</p><p>The courtroom floor was emptied, with the exception of Denny Crane who stood in the middle of everything, feeling very much alone. </p><p>The judge turned to her bailiff. “Bill, please inform me when the jury comes in with their verdict.”</p><p>“Yes, Your Honor,” he said efficiently.</p><p>The judge motioned for Denny to follow her. They walked in silence, through the maze of doorways leading back to her office. The judge opened the door, turned on the light and motioned for Denny to sit down. </p><p>Cautiously, Denny sat down on the sofa. He looked rather uncomfortable. </p><p>The judge shut the door. She removed her official robes and revealed an attractive, short red dress, with black boots. “Please excuse my informality. But I’ve been wearing that robe all day long and after a while I feel quite uncomfortable.”</p><p>Denny swallowed hard, going out of his way not to stare at the pretty woman who he was alone with. “No problem, Your Honor.”</p><p>She sat on the adjacent sofa, feeling quite relaxed. “What I have to say to you is not on the record anyway, so please feel free to be your usual charming self. Would you like something to drink?”  She pointed to a mini-bar in the middle of the room. “I have gin, scotch, vodka and various other types of poisons.”</p><p>Denny wiped the sweat from his brow.  “Gin and tonic. On the rocks, please.”</p><p>She got up and mixed the drink, and mixed one for herself as well. “Now, down to business. It appears that you owe me a favor, Mr. Crane. When Mr. Lewiston and I called the DA, we told him that you were one of the attorneys defending Mr. Thomason. Needless to say, Mr. Jarrod has a little grudge against your father, which was posthumously passed on to you. You’ve been on his list of possible suspects for infractions of the law which are too numerous to even mention.”  </p><p>“Oh, really?” Denny asked innocently. “Whatever did little old me do wrong?”</p><p>She laughed. “Let’s see, bringing a loaded firearm into a courtroom. Annoying a judge by calling him a namby-pamby. Shooting a homeless man. Insulting a dwarf. Sexual harassment of a movie star. Alimony issues with six different women.  Numerous paternity suits. Interruption of a Canadian court proceeding, in which you insulted the dignity of the judicial system by wearing a wig and fishing waders. On that note, illegal possession of firearms on several counts, including...” She wrinkled her nose. “Shooting a fish? Oh Denny, Denny, Denny...”  She shook her head at him. “Surely your Mad Cow illness can’t be so serious that you don’t remember any of these things?”</p><p>“Moo, moo...” Denny said, while making circling motions at his temple with his index finger.</p><p>She sipped her drink, and shook her head again in annoyance.  “You know, you have not changed at all in fifty years.”</p><p>Denny got up from the couch and paced. “Norah, come on, certainly you’re not going to hold that first date against me! I was just a little uptight, that’s all. Going to school. Working for my father part time. You understand?”</p><p>She smiled. “No, not that.  When you called me a night later and absolutely begged me to go out with you, making grandiose promises of what I was to expect. Well, like a foolish young girl, I believed you. And you called me up to cancel out.”</p><p>Denny’s face reddened. “Norah, I had to work on a paper with one of my classmates. I thought I told you that. You seemed to understand, back then.” </p><p>Her eyes widened. “After all these years, you still can’t tell the truth? You haven’t changed much. I walked past the local coffee shop and I saw you with another woman.”</p><p>Denny’s eyes rolled toward the ceiling as he sighed. “Norah, listen, you never let me fully explain. That other woman who you saw me with was a young nursing student who I wanted to fix up with my best friend, Sam. We agreed to grab a bite to eat before heading for the library. Sam hadn’t arrived yet.  Nothing went on between me and Christine, honestly! That whole thing was just one big, silly misunderstanding. I’m telling you the truth, Norah.”</p><p>She jumped up and angrily slapped his face. “You fool! You wouldn’t know the truth if it fell right over you! You broke my heart, Denny. It took a long time before I could find it in my heart to trust any man after that.”</p><p>Denny struggled with the next sentence. “I hear you have a daughter. Is that what this is about? Is there something that I’ve done that I’ve forgotten, perhaps?”</p><p>She sighed impatiently. “Not everything is about you, you pompous ass! Well, not that this is any of your business, but I’ll tell you anyway. I dated a respectful young man, who right now is a Federal judge in Washington. When I told him about the pregnancy, he offered to marry me, but I chose not to accept. I just couldn’t trust. I just couldn’t commit. Wendy gets to see her father regularly. He married one of his first-year interns and he has a nice family. I’m happy for him. Wendy’s adjusted well.”</p><p>Denny walked around nervously. “So, what exactly do you want me to do?”</p><p>The judge smiled. “As I said before, you owe me a favor. Simon Jarrod wanted to take you down. Paul Lewiston would have thrown you to the dogs. But for reasons which escape me right now, I decided to defend your honor. I thought that, deep down inside, you were basically a good person. So, I talked him out of bringing any charges against you.”</p><p>Denny sighed. “Okay, so I owe you. What do you want of me? Money? A character reference? But then, my character isn’t worth very much these days anyway. So, what exactly is it that you do want?”</p><p>She took another sip of her drink. “Two things, actually. First of all, you need to do something to straighten things out with Bill. He was terrified when you screamed at him from inside that box. You know it was an honest mistake. He was just looking for a place to sit. You know that he’s a little bit slow to understand certain things.” </p><p>Denny wrinkled his forehead. “So, you want me to take the big lug out to dinner? A few drinks? A night on the town, Denny Crane style? As long as it doesn’t involve sex!” </p><p>Norah laughed.  “No, that’s not what I had in mind! Bill volunteers at a homeless shelter. He needs some help sometimes in dealing with distribution of meals, cots and pillows and other supplies.” </p><p>Denny sighed again. “Okay, fine, I’ll help out with the homeless. As long as I don’t have to sleep with them.”</p><p>Norah put on a mischievous smile, which said it all. </p><p>“Oh, no! Denny Crane does not sleep with the homeless!”</p><p>Norah responded sternly. “One night would not hurt you. You’d get a sense of what true society is all about. You talk about America and the true spirit of what our country stands for. You spend a night with Bill in that shelter and you will understand, Denny Crane!” At that point, her voice was raised considerably. </p><p>“Okay,” he said simply. “I’ll spend one night with Bill, helping out with the homeless. That is all that you want, right, Norah?”</p><p>She smiled again and put her arm around his shoulders. “Well, not all that I want. I’ll pick you up at the shelter after you’ve done your time. You’ll treat me to breakfast and then I’ll tell you about the second item that you need to do for me.”</p><p>Denny’s eyes widened, while Norah continued. She moved over closer to him. “You know something, I have a good mind to make you do that second thing first, here and now.”</p><p>Denny swallowed hard. Before either of them could say another word, there was a knock on the door, which opened swiftly.  Bill’s large figure loomed outside. Denny shielded his eyes to guard against the glare of his bald head.</p><p>“Just a minute, Bill.” Norah said as she straightened her clothing and put her robe back on. She quickly adjusted her hair.  “You can come in now, Bill.”</p><p>Bill entered with caution, sensing that he had interrupted something. “Judge Nantares, Mr. Crane, I’m sorry to interrupt.  I just wanted to tell you that the jury is back with their verdict.”</p><p>“So soon?” Denny asked. </p><p>“Yes, Deputy Chief Onyx is bringing the DA and his testimonial witnesses over to the courtroom.”</p><p>Norah looked puzzled about the speed of the verdict. “Thank you, Bill. Give us a minute. We’ll be right out.”</p><p>Bill courteously shut the door behind him. The judge turned to Denny and said sternly, “Now Denny, after the verdict, you and Bill will start your little night out together. I don’t want to hear any excuses. Do I make myself clear?”</p><p>He stood at attention. “Yes, ma’am.” </p><p>“Good. Let’s go back to the courtroom.” Denny followed the judge outside. For the first time, he was not thinking about watching her figure as she walked in front of him. He was wondering how he would get through the night.</p><p>The judge entered first, followed by Denny, a moment later. Bill rose to attention. “Court, come to order! The Honorable Judge Norah Nantares presiding.” </p><p>Everybody stood up. The judge nodded and said, “You may be seated.” The whole gallery and the jury sat down. Patrick, Paul and Alan sat at the defense table, soon to be joined by Denny.</p><p>At the plaintiff’s table sat a very tired-looking Bernard Bloch, now without handcuffs. Sitting next to him was Bethany Horowitz, who did not look much better. Sitting next to her was Margo Bennett Bloch, who looked ten years older than she did a half hour ago. The DA’s constables stood on either side of the Plaintiff’s table, watching Bloch carefully. The DA and his assistant sat in the front row and observed respectfully. </p><p>Reporters and <em>Galaxy Guards </em>fans lined the gallery, which was standing room only. Clarence and Jerry kept their positions near the doorway. </p><p>The judge turned to the jury. “Madame Foreperson, has the jury reached a verdict?”</p><p>The lady stood respectfully. “Yes, we have.” </p><p>The judge officially said to the foreperson, “What say you?”</p><p>It was so quiet that you could hear a pin drop. The foreperson took out her handwritten note and read it word for word. “In the matter of <em>Unimount vs. Thomason</em>, we the jury find for the defendant, Patrick Thomason.” </p><p>All at once, the courtroom erupted into joyful noise from the gallery. A chant of “Pa-trick! Pa-trick!  Pa-trick!” went up from all the corners of the room. The judge banged her gavel. “Order, order!” she yelled. Everyone quieted down. “Members of the jury, thank you for your service. Congratulations, Mr. Thomason. We are adjourned.” </p><p>The DA and his people escorted Bloch and his people outside the courtroom for further questioning. Before they could go, however, Bloch walked over to the defense table and stared at Denny Crane. “I hate you,” he said sullenly. </p><p>Denny smiled at him. “The feeling is mutual, Bernie, for you and yours at-what was the name of that company again?”</p><p>Bloch’s face reddened and he began yelling, “Unimount!  Unimount! Unimount!” He was still repeating the name of the company as the officers dragged him out. </p><p>The DA and his assistant were still in the courtroom. While Denny was saying goodbye and good riddance to Bloch, the DA was talking to the judge. As soon as Bloch had been removed, Jerrod called to him, “Denny, please come over here.”</p><p>Denny approached him warily. When he was within speaking distance, Jerrod told him, “I was just telling Norah here that she is a good judge of character. I was wrong in my first impression of you. I apologize.” </p><p>Denny gave him a gesture of dismissal. “Oh, think nothing of it, Simon.” </p><p>Jarrod scratched his head. “Still, it makes me wonder as to whether this should be my last term. My judgment is not what it used to be twelve years ago, when I first took office. I’m getting too old to do all this running around. I was offered an administrative position that pays a lot more money, once I retire. What do you think, Denny?”</p><p>Denny put his arm around L. Simon Jarrod and spoke to him, like father to son. “Simon, listen to me, don’t let anybody talk you into retiring. What you and I do here, that is what defines us.  And don’t let them promote you either, damn it! I knew you when you were just a law clerk working for my father. You weren’t happy sitting behind a desk then and you wouldn’t be happy now as a glorified paper pusher.”</p><p>Jarrod thought about Denny’s words. “Thank you, I do believe that you told me what I needed to hear. Take care, my friend.” They hugged. The DA nodded to the judge and then walked over to the defense table, where Patrick and his lawyers were still hopping up and down in a dance of joy.</p><p>Denny tried to sneak away to talk to one of the pretty female reporters who was giving him the eye. Judge Nantares gently tugged at him on one side. Bill, who was smiling widely, was standing near him on the other side.</p><p>Alan and Sam motioned to Denny. “Denny, come over here!” Alan said joyfully. </p><p>Denny stared at Norah like a wounded puppy dog; she just shook her head firmly. </p><p>“Sorry, Alan, I have some business to attend to,” Denny told him. “You all just go ahead. I’ll catch up some time tomorrow, I hope.” His tone of voice was that of a condemned prisoner. </p><p>Denny walked out through a side door, escorted by the judge and Bill. Alan was concerned at Bill’s happy mood.  He had his arm around Denny. They would have to talk about this. Oh, boy, would they have to talk about this...</p><p>PART EIGHT:</p><p>Tuesday afternoon, the offices of Crane, Poole and Schmidt were abuzz in party mode. The main conference room was transformed into a party room. Everybody present wore <em>Galaxy Guards </em>uniforms. Mr. Clement and his family were there as well. </p><p>Paul was dressed as a shapeshifter in a brown uniform. Alan and Sam were wearing their costumes from yesterday. However, Patrick was very much more well-dressed. He wore a green suit and new glasses. Shirley was dressed like one of Captain Jackson’s many alien girlfriends, in a skintight silver bodysuit with long, white hair and antennae. Jerry was dressed like a Klaxon, in a silvery metallic-looking shirt, short red slacks and tall, black boots, and a silver helmet. Clarence was dressed as Clarice, wearing a long, black wig and a short, blue dress with devil’s horns on his head, like a native of the planet Sulfa. </p><p>Sam scooped out some Gorean ale from the punch bowl. “Well, we did it, Patrick. You have a lot to be proud of.” </p><p>Patrick sat in the corner with his mother, who was enjoying the comfort of her new mobile state of the art wheel chair. She wore a bright blue dress with a long pearl necklace and earrings, her gray hair was nicely styled and her eyeglasses were also brand new, with hearing aids hidden in the earpieces. Her son looked up from the Styrofoam plate of cake with green icing that he was feeding her and smiled at Sam. “The CEO of Parallax Publishers contacted me. He watched the trial on TV. It turned out that the whole incident generated some good publicity for his company. He wanted to sign me to a contract extension for a lot more money. But that’s not the best thing. He offered me an entry level position as assistant copyright editor for future litigation issues.” Everyone laughed.</p><p>Paul put his arm around the boy. “So, Patrick, your time here actually taught you some good skills that you could use in the real world. I’m proud of you.”</p><p>Patrick nodded. “Yes, I can’t thank all of you enough. You all have done so much for me. Incidentally, have you heard anything about the DA’s investigation, Mr. Lewiston?”</p><p>Paul nodded and smiled. “Yes, thanks to your testimony, Bloch was officially indicted. Most likely, Unimount itself will be disbanded and put under new management.”</p><p>Sam walked over and joined the group. “Even better, I heard this morning that the DA took away Unimount’s copyright endorsement rights. There is some positive talk that Parallax Publishers is first in line to pick up the franchise rights.” </p><p>Patrick hugged Sam and Paul and yelled emphatically, “Yes!” </p><p>A synthesizer voice was heard after Patrick’s exclamation.  “Con-grat-u-lat-ions, Pa-trick.” It was Peter Clement, proudly wearing his old <em>Galaxy Guards </em>captain’s uniform, with four silver pips in the high collar of his gold tunic. </p><p>Patrick quickly turned around and heartily shook Peter Clement’s hand. “Thank you, sir!” Patrick then turned to Alan with a worried expression on his face. “Mr. Shore, will Mr. Clement be okay?”</p><p>Alan nodded.  “Yes, as the DA investigated Bloch’s involvement in the Big Nine Health Continuum, he found deeply seeded levels of corruption in that hospital group’s by-laws and illegal corporate connections. So, the Big Nine is being shut down and absorbed by many other worthy facilities. That includes specialized cancer care facilities such as Ferenginar Medical Center, which are now required by law to accept all types of medical insurance.” </p><p>Sam came over to them and added, “Yes, Patrick, Mr. Clement will do just fine. He’ll be able to stay with his family in Laurel Canyon, with the best home health care that money can buy. He will be one of the beneficiaries of a class action lawsuit which will pay him and his family enough money to last for the rest of their lives.”   </p><p>At that cue, Marge and Natalie Clement, both in <em>Galaxy Guards</em> women’s uniforms (Marge’s was blue, while Natalie’s was gold) walked up to Patrick and the three lawyers who were talking to him. Marge stooped to put her arms around Peter Clement’s shoulders and hugged him. “Thank you for bringing my husband back to me,” she told them over his graying head.</p><p>“I have never seen Daddy so happy,” Natalie commented. “It will be wonderful to have him home with us.” </p><p>Patrick looked around. “Where is Mr. Crane?” he asked Alan. </p><p>Alan wrinkled his brow. “I don’t know. I dialed his cell phone all night yesterday. I called his home phone repeatedly this morning. There was no answer. I’m worried about him.”</p><p>“Don’t worry, Alan,” Sam reassured him. “Denny is probably out there somewhere celebrating with a pretty young thing half his age. I’m sure he’ll be here any minute, in time to make his usual grand entrance.”</p><p>As if on cue, the elevator doors opened and Denny Crane emerged, or what was left of him. He looked positively exhausted. His suit was wrinkled and looked old. His hair was messed and he was carrying a cane, walking along one step at a time. When he got to the conference room where the party was, Alan took one look at him and said, “Denny, what happened?” in a concerned tone of voice. </p><p>Denny winced painfully.  “I don’t want to talk about it! Just leave me alone.” </p><p>Paul clinked a spoon against his glass to draw everybody in for silence. “Quiet, everyone! Now that everybody is here, I want to make a little announcement. A week ago, Mr. Samuel Kimmel came to our firm in need of some legal help. Well, needless to say, he was the one who gave us help. The percentage of profit of our retainer is the biggest one so far this year.”</p><p>Everybody clapped. Paul clinked his glass again for silence. “Now for the presentation portion of our ceremony. A few days ago, Mr. Kimmel asked for access to our library for reference to a certain article in an old magazine. Well, I didn’t think anything of it, until I searched the magazine in question myself. I now finally know what Sam was looking for. I’m sorry, Sam, for coming across as being rather insensitive the first time you asked for this.” He handed Sam a wrapped package. “I hope that this makes up for my crankiness. I got it framed just for you and your wife, Sam. Enjoy.” </p><p>Sam unwrapped the package carefully. “Thank you, Paul.” He took a moment to compose himself. He held up the item for all to see. Everyone applauded. A tear came to Sam’s eye. “Over 50 years ago, I was given a very difficult assignment from a law professor who wanted to just give me a hard time. So, he paired me up with an unruly maverick named Denny Crane...” Everybody laughed.  Denny smiled, enjoying the attention.</p><p>Sam continued. “He wanted us to work on an article together, promising the class that the most creatively done article would appear in one of the popular news magazines of the day. Well, as it turned out, the year was 1960. Nobody believed that we would beat the Russians at getting to the moon. So, we were given the assignment to prove those popular authors and respectful authorities wrong. Well, with a little persistence and a heck of a lot of nerve, mostly coming from you-know-who over there, we not only completed the article successfully, but our article, <em>‘Walking On The Moon’,</em> was deemed worthy for publication in the <em>Boston Herald</em>. I wanted to show it to my wife. Paul was nice enough to frame it for me. It’s just wonderful to share this moment with all of you.” Everyone applauded as some loudly agreed with him.</p><p>Paul put on a stern face. “Don’t get too comfortable, Mr. Kimmel. You’re expected at work at our LA branch next week.” Paul turned to the audience. “Let’s have a hand for Crane, Poole and Schmidt’s LA copyright law consultant.” Everybody clapped, more loudly this time. Paul continued. “Mr. Kimmel, you are going to put into the executive training program, which means that if you continue to perform the way that you did with us in the past few days, I will give my personal guarantee that within a year, you will be made partner.” Everybody clapped again, some whistled or shouted enthusiastically as well. </p><p>Paul held up his finger. “Wait, there’s more! Mr. Kimmel, you’ll have full health, hospital, specialized treatment and vacation benefits for you and your family. Think carefully about how you’re going to spend all your free time.”</p><p>Sam laughed. “For me, there’s no doubt, Paul. My wife has been waiting for me to come home to her for more than two or three days a week for the past ten years now. Thank you for giving this to me.” Everyone congratulated him amid loud applause.</p><p>Sam held up his hand. “Wait, I have more to say! As soon as the verdict came through, Mark Alamo of my old firm, Sarek and Grayson, called me and offered me a partnership opportunity, with a giant raise in pay. So, I handled the matter appropriately-using words that I cannot repeat in polite company. I told him what he could do with his offer.” Everybody laughed. “Nothing gave me more pleasure.” Again, everybody laughed. “I want to thank Paul, Shirley, Alan and Denny for the opportunity to start over.” Everybody clapped wildly, whistling and calling out congratulations.  </p><p>Natalie walked over to Sam to congratulate him. “I’m so happy for you, Mr. Kimmel. Unfortunately, we have to get going. We have a plane to catch. Thank you for everything. Mom will wheel Dad over to you.” </p><p>Marge pushed her husband’s chair over to Sam. Peter Clement shook Sam’s hand warmly. “Thank-you-Mis-ter-Kim-mel.” </p><p>“Long Life and Prosperity, Mr. Clement,” Sam told him kindly, using the traditional Volgon phrase. </p><p>Paul and Shirley came over to say their goodbyes. Patrick and Denny were the last to come over. “Good luck, Mr. Clement. It was an honor to meet you,” Patrick said earnestly. </p><p>Peter Clement responded, “Keep-on-writ-ing-Pat-rick.” </p><p>Denny was the last to congratulate Mr. Clement. For the first time, Denny was too choked up for words. He just hugged Mr. Clement. “Take care, Pete,” was all he could say.</p><p>“Den-ny-it-has-been-a-plea-sure,” Peter Clement said. “You-are-a-much-bet-ter-man-than-your-fath-er-e-ver-was. I-will-miss-you.”</p><p>Denny smiled. “And I, you, old friend. And I, you.” </p><p>Marge waved to everyone, as Natalie wheeled the chair with her father. They left through the accessible doors on the side of the room.</p><p>Denny stopped short in a twinge of pain. “Ow! My aching back!” he yelled. He felt a feminine hand massaging him. “Oh, Shirley, that feels so good,” he sighed.</p><p>A deep-toned, feminine voice with a southern accent answered.  “I’m not Shirley, Sugar Buns.”</p><p>Denny turned around so quickly that he fell on his backside.  He stared up into the smiling face of Norah Nantares and groaned, “Oh, no! Could this day get any worse?!”</p><p>Norah gave him a hand up. “I never quite affected anybody in that way.”</p><p>Denny was still cautious, although he accepted her assistance in getting up. “Well, what do you want?”</p><p>She smiled with a glimmer in her eye. “Actually, I’m here for Patrick.”</p><p>Denny sputtered, “You-you-you and Patrick, but-but-but he’s only a boy, Norah!”</p><p>She laughed openly. “You ridiculous old fart! I brought my daughter here for Patrick. I asked him to help her with her writing. She’s just starting graduate school here in Boston and needs a great deal of help with her grammar and written expression. She’s just like her father. He could speak for hours on end, but can’t put two sentences together on a piece of paper.” </p><p>Denny sat down. “Oh, that’s a relief. I mean about-Well, you know.” </p><p>Norah put her hand on her hips. “Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know.”  She turned her head to the side. “Anyway-Wendy, get over here!  Where is that girl? She’s always dawdling about.”</p><p>A young woman in her late twenties entered the room. She was darker-skinned than her mother, her hair was in shoulder-length corn rows, and she had on round-rimmed glasses, a colorful African dashiki top in yellow, black, and green, black jeans and black shoes.  </p><p>Norah said, “Oh, there you are,” sighed and shook her head. “I swear, this girl is going to drive me crazy someday. You shouldn’t keep wandering about like that, you could get lost.”</p><p>Wendy laughed. “Mom, I’m twenty-seven years old,” she said in a husky voice as low as her mother’s. “I’m perfectly capable of finding my way around the city.”    </p><p>“Yeah, that’s why we arrived here twenty minutes late, because you were doing the driving. We almost missed the Clements. It’s a good thing that we caught them at the elevator as they were leaving.”</p><p>Wendy sighed, knowing that there was no way of winning this argument. “Yes, Mother,” she said simply.</p><p>Norah took her by the hand and led her around. “Everybody, I’d like you to meet my daughter Wendy.” One by one, everyone in the room shook hands with her: Paul, Clarice, Jerry, Sam, Alan and finally Denny. </p><p>Patrick, who was shy by nature, stood by his mother’s wheelchair in the corner. Norah looked around for him and waved to him to come over. His mother nudged him and said “Go on!”, so he walked over with a smile. </p><p>Norah introduced her daughter to Patrick. “Patrick, this is my daughter, Wendy. Wendy, this is Patrick, the nice young man that I was telling you about.”</p><p>The young people shook hands shyly. They started to talk, but it was obvious that they felt uncomfortable with older people on top of them. </p><p>Alan noticed this and gently guided Norah away. “So, Judge Nantares, would you like something to drink?”</p><p>“Oh yes, Mr. Shore, thank you. But I think that Denny needs it more than I do.”</p><p>“And why is that, may I ask?” Alan asked curiously. </p><p>Norah laughed. “Bill gave him some workout last night.”</p><p>Alan wrinkled his brow. “You don’t say?  Care to elaborate?” </p><p>She nodded. “Yes, Bill told me that he and Denny were working hard spreading the sheets last night.” </p><p>“Spreading the sheets?” said Alan with great concern. </p><p>“Yes. You see-” </p><p>Before she could finish, Sam came up to her and said, “Judge Nantares, sorry to interrupt. I just got a call on my cell phone.  My taxi will be here in about a half hour. So, I’d better say my good-byes now. It was a pleasure meeting you. You had some pretty difficult circumstances to work with, but you handled everything quite well, with dignity and honor. I hope that we meet again.” </p><p>She shook his hand. “Thank you, Mr. Kimmel. Good luck wherever you may go.” She went over to the punchbowl to sample the Gorean ale.</p><p>Sam gave Alan a hug. “Alan, I can’t thank you enough. I can rest easy knowing that Denny is in good hands. Thank you so much for helping me with that matter that we discussed. Thanks to you, I am no longer afraid. For the first time, I am not worried about my job, or health care concerns, or anything at all for that matter. It’s just a great feeling to be able to be free of all of that.” </p><p>Alan smiled. “Well, take care of that wife and family of yours, Sam.” </p><p>Sam smiled back. “Take care of yours, too.” </p><p>Alan sighed sorrowfully. “But I don’t have a wife and family, Sam.” </p><p>Sam turned his head to Denny. “Oh yes, you do. He’s all that and more. Take good care of him, Alan.” </p><p>Alan felt a little misty-eyed, but tried to conceal it with a hearty handshake. “I will, Sam.”   </p><p>Paul came up and gave Sam a handshake. “I expect to hear some good things about you from our West Coast office, Samuel. I have faith in you.” </p><p>Sam patted him on the back. “Thank you, Paul.” He added in a low voice, “Thanks for the plane ticket too.”</p><p>“Compliments of our LA branch office,” Paul said softly.  </p><p>Clarice and Jerry were next. Both wished Sam well. </p><p>Patrick excused himself from his conversation with Wendy and turned to face Sam. “I don’t know what I would have done if it weren’t for you, Mr. Kimmel. You helped me to finally build my life. Nobody else took me seriously.”</p><p>Sam shook his head. “Denny and Alan will look after you just fine, I’m sure. I really must be going now. I’ll be looking for those great sci-fi novels of yours in the bookstore.” They hugged. “Keep in touch,” Sam said to Patrick, as final words.</p><p>At last, Sam turned to Denny. “So, what do you say, partner, one final round-up?”</p><p>Denny held Sam’s arm for one minute. “Sam, would you be so kind as to show Judge Nantares your plaque for one second?”</p><p>He said, “Oh yes, surely,” and reached into his briefcase. He handed it over to her. </p><p>Slowly, Denny walked over to her. “That’s the project that I was working on, Norah. Also, ask Sam about the night that I introduced him to his wife.” </p><p>Sam smiled. “Yes, I remember it as if it were yesterday. Denny introduced Chrissy to me on the day when we began work on the article.” </p><p>Norah read the article carefully and listened to Sam. She couldn’t say a word in response. </p><p>Denny just looked at her seriously. “You see, Norah. I never lied to you.”</p><p>She looked up at him with misty eyes. “No, you didn’t, Denny.  It seems I owe you an apology.” She kissed him tenderly. Her daughter regarded them curiously from across the room. Sam quietly left the conference room to get his suitcase from Paul’s office.  </p><p>Norah and Denny were unaware when Wendy and Patrick walked over to them slowly. Wendy commented to her new friend, “Parents! Whatever are we to do with them, Patrick? We leave them alone for a moment and they get all kissy face with each other.”</p><p>Everybody laughed as Denny and Norah slowly separated. Norah was the first to speak. “We really should get going also. Are you ready, Patrick?”</p><p>Patrick cast a side long glance at Wendy. “Sure, I’ll take Wendy wherever she wants to go.” </p><p>Wendy was quick to respond. “How about that coffee shop right across the boulevard?”</p><p>Norah responded before Patrick could say a word. “You are talking about the small one with the blue awning that’s right across the street from the library, aren’t you, Sugarplum?” Norah made sure to accentuate the word ‘library.’</p><p>Wendy rolled her eyes. “Yes, Mother. We will go to the library.  I’m twenty-seven years old and my own mother still treats me like a little girl.”</p><p>Patrick looked over toward his mother. “Mom, will you be okay?”</p><p>The old woman smiled. “Yes, Paddy dear. I’ll call the limo driver and he’ll pick me up in a few minutes.”</p><p>Norah looked over at her. “Have the driver come to the front entrance. We’ll wait with you, Mrs. Thomason.”</p><p>“Oh, isn’t that sweet. We probably should get to know each other a little better, seeing how well our kids are getting along.”</p><p>Sam came over toting his suitcase. “I told the cab driver to pick me up at the back entrance to be closest to the freeway access leading to the airport. So, I guess we’ll all say goodbye now.” </p><p>Denny looked up and responded quickly. “Wait, I’ll go with you, Sam.”  </p><p>Sam smiled and looked at the rest of the gang. He made the rounds to Alan, Paul, Shirley, Clarice and Jerry. Norah and Wendy did the same. </p><p>Patrick gave Alan a hug. “Thank you, Mr. Shore. You did a lot for me to get me that jury verdict. I want you to know how much I appreciate everything that you did.”</p><p>Alan shrugged. “You did all the work, Patrick. I just wanted to make sure that you got the credit. We’re still on for chess on Thursday night, right?”</p><p>Patrick smiled. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world.” They warmly shook hands and then parted. </p><p>Alan turned to Denny, who had his arm around Sam. “Oh Denny, in case you need to talk to me later, you know where to find me.” Denny slowly nodded.</p><p>Denny, Sam, Patrick, Norah, Wendy and Mrs. Thomason made their way down the corridor to the elevator. Denny was in the lead and he led them to another corridor around the corner. “Since everything that we’ve done on this case had a somewhat futuristic theme to it, I wanted to show all of you our new elevator prototype. It’s a work in progress. All of the details haven’t been worked out yet. But so far, it gets us where we want to go. Let me show you.”</p><p>He took out a remote control that resembled a cell phone and pointed it at a boxlike long freight elevator in the corner. The doors opened and everyone walked in. Patrick wheeled his mother inside. From the ceiling, there were two electronic sensors that buzzed and the door closed. A well-toned female computer voice asked the question, “What is your destination, please?” </p><p>“Ground Floor,” Denny said authoritatively. </p><p>“Working,” the female voice said. </p><p>The elevator immediately sprang to life. It went down by express to the ground floor, passing up every other floor in a matter of seconds. It came to a smooth halt and the doors opened. The passengers got out quickly. </p><p>“Wow, that was amazing, Mr. Crane,” Patrick said admiringly. </p><p>“Research and development, my boy,” Denny said. “The world stands still for nobody. By the way, are we still on for movie night this Sunday?”</p><p>Patrick nodded enthusiastically. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world, Mr. Crane,”</p><p>“Good. Only, please, this time, let me pick the movie,” Denny firmly intoned. </p><p>“You got it, Mr. Crane,” Patrick responded. </p><p>Denny kissed Mrs. Thomason on the cheek and then turned toward Wendy and kissed her on the cheek. “Make sure that mother of yours behaves herself.” </p><p>Wendy smiled back and sighed. “I’ll try, Mr. Crane, but you know how parents can get when they reach that age.” She took Patrick’s arm affectionately. </p><p>Norah came up to Wendy and Patrick. “Wendy, why don’t you take Patrick and Mrs. Thomason to the car? I’ll be there in a minute.” The young people walked off, talking to each other, wheeling Mrs. Thomason between them.</p><p>Norah, Denny and Sam were alone now. Norah first turned to Sam. “Mr. Kimmel, it’s been a pleasure. Good luck to you in your new job. I’m sure that you’ll do well.” They shook hands warmly.  “May I have a moment with Denny?”</p><p>“Surely,” Sam said as he pulled off to the side. </p><p>There was an awkward moment of silence. Norah was the first to speak. “Once again, I can’t tell you how sorry I am about everything. I should have believed in you from the beginning.  Do you believe in second chances, Denny?”</p><p>Denny smiled. “Second chances, third chances, sixth chances; hell, I’ve been knocked around, banged up and down, turned inside out so many times, why not do it again? I’m Denny Crane.”</p><p>She gave him one final kiss before leaving. “I’ll call you in a couple of days, Sugar Bear. Take care of that back of yours, I have big plans for you.” She waved to him as she left to join her daughter and Patrick. Sam and Denny were finally alone.  </p><p>For a moment, they walked in silence. Sam was the first to speak.  “Why is that whenever we get together we either piss off a lot of people, make a lot of noise or drive people crazy?”</p><p>Denny shrugged. “Oh, you’re talking about our good days now.” They both laughed. </p><p>Sam responded. “You know, what I’m going to miss the most about you is that you never let things get to you. You always have that good spirit inside you, that energy which draws people to you.”</p><p>Denny’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Have you been studying Buddhism again?”</p><p>Sam smiled. “Hey, why not? My best friend is beginning to look like one of those fat, old, jolly Buddha statues.”</p><p>Denny jabbed him with an elbow. “Hey, watch it, mister, or I’ll tell Chrissy about those slave women who were giving you the eye. How is my little doctor in training doing anyway?”</p><p>Sam smiled. “She’s an Administrative Nurse, you dolt! Right now, she decided to take a leave of absence from work. But thanks to the outcome of events in the past couple of days, she may find her way to come out of retirement, at least part time anyway.” </p><p>Denny was pleased. “That’s the spirit, old buddy. I bet that those grandkids are a handful.” </p><p>Sam sighed. “Yes, but it’s like re-living everything all over again with our son and daughter, as they were growing up. It amuses us to see how much has changed in the past twenty years.  Little Samantha knows more about the trouble-shooting websites than I could ever learn in 50 years. It’s amazing, Denny, how much they could teach us.”</p><p>Denny grew serious.  “I envy you, Sam. You met one woman and you got it right the first time. I can respect that. You’re smart, focused and very likable. People take you seriously. I wish I could be more like you.”</p><p>Sam didn’t know how to respond. He just laughed. “I envy you, my friend. You are Denny Crane. That in itself is enough.”</p><p>Denny shook his head. “It’s not enough when you’re seventy-two years old, losing your mind and all alone.”</p><p>Sam stopped short, grabbed Denny by the shoulder and turned him around. “Listen to me, my friend. You are never alone. I could be on the other end of the coast, but I am still with you. We have a connection that goes beyond time and space. And here and now, you have Alan. Do you have any comprehension about how much that man cares for you?”</p><p>A car labeled “Galileo Taxi” pulled up to the curb. The driver, a little man with an egg-shaped head whose brown hair was long on the sides and balding on top, rolled down his window and stuck out his head. “Are youse Sam Kimmel?” he said with a Brooklyn accent.</p><p>Sam waved. “Yes, that’s me.”</p><p>Denny smiled. “Well, I guess this is it.”</p><p>Sam smiled back. “At least until the next time one of us gets into some type of dire, hopeless predicament and needs to be rescued by the other.” </p><p>Denny gave him a hug. “That means that we’ll see each very soon.”</p><p>Sam put his arms around Denny and held him tightly. “I’m going to miss you so much.”</p><p>The taxi driver got out a cigar and lit it. “Hello, time is money, people! Another two minutes, I’ll be on the meter and somebody will have to pay for it. I know it won’t be me.”</p><p>Denny released Sam and glared at the little balding man. “Keep your shorts on, Grandpa. I have a new friend who’s bigger, bolder and balder than you.” </p><p>The annoying taxi driver was unperturbed. “Then maybe he could come here and load your luggage for you. I don’t get paid to be a bellboy.” He took a closer look at Sam. “Hey, wait a minute. You’re that ‘Klang’ person, aren’t you? I saw you on the news last night. You were great! I’m Merv Sharmin. It’s great to meet you.” He shook Sam’s hand warmly through the driver’s side window. </p><p>Denny seemed offended at not getting any credit for his part.  “Ahem!”</p><p>Merv stared at Denny. “Your underwear was showing. Robots don’t wear underwear.” </p><p>Denny turned red in the face. “Let’s not talk about that, shall we?” He took a $20 bill out of his pocket and handed it to the greedy cab driver. “This one is on me, Sam. The sooner this chatty old troll picks himself up and drives that messy old stink wagon out of here, the happier we’ll all be.”</p><p>Sam loaded his own luggage. “I’ll call you when I get in to the West Coast.” </p><p>“Use the phone in your seat. I took the liberty of upgrading you to First Class.”      </p><p>Sam gave Denny a mischievous look. “Let’s do one more for the road. DENNY!” he yelled.</p><p>“SAM!” Denny yelled with equal intensity. They hugged tightly, like two loved-starved bears.</p><p>Merv, who had been staring up at the sky to avoid looking at the affectionate duo, started to look uncomfortable. “Uh, gentlemen, I hate to interrupt your little love fest, but there’s a strange man wearing a lady’s wig and smoking a cigar who’s staring at us from the terrace up there. Needless to say, he’s making me feel very nervous.”  </p><p>Denny and Sam both laughed. Sam was the first to speak. “Is he always so possessive like this?”</p><p>Denny sighed. “Yes, he has abandonment issues.” </p><p>Sam held up three fingers and saluted Denny with the Volgon three-fingered heroes’ honor. “Long Life and Prosperity, Dennis Crane.”</p><p>Denny responded similarly. “Long Life and Prosperity, Samuel Kimmel.” </p><p>Sam got in the car and gave with one final wave; Merv revved up the motor and drove out of the parking lot.</p><p>“Goodbye, old friend,” Denny said quietly.  He stood alone in the parking lot for a few minutes.</p><p>********</p><p>Alan sat puffing on his cigar thoughtfully. Denny opened the terrace door and joined his friend. </p><p>Alan turned around and smiled. “Ah, there you are. For a moment there, I was worried that Sam would take you with him.”</p><p>Denny pretended to be annoyed, but couldn’t help but smile.  “You, mister, have been spying on me.” Denny sat down next to Alan and lit his own cigar.</p><p>Alan pretended to be offended. “Well, someone has to look after you. You’re gone one night without me and you come back here looking like Death warmed over and walking with a cane. You never did explain that, actually.”</p><p>Denny poured himself a glass of brandy. He could tell that this was going to be a long night. “Must you know everything? I mean, it’s not like we’re married or anything like that.” </p><p>Alan pressed on, unperturbed. “Judge Nantares said something about you and Bill in a homeless shelter, hitting the sheets together. You don’t believe that that’s something that I should know about?”</p><p>Alan’s voice was raised, but Denny remained calm. “Taken out of context, counselor. Norah and I had some old business to settle, over a misunderstanding fifty years ago.”</p><p>Alan shook his head and sounded impatient. “You’re not answering the question. How does your old business with the judge add up to you and Bill knocking boots together?”</p><p>Denny looked toward the sky, in search of divine intervention. “I’ll try to explain this slowly: Norah wanted to teach me some type of a lesson in humility. Therefore, she ordered me to go with Bill to a homeless shelter for one night, taking care of a bunch of poor, stinky, underfed and mentally challenged old men. Bill and I were folding sheets on the cots, making arrangements for comfortable sleeping quarters for the residents.”</p><p>Alan laughed. “I guess that I owe you an apology, my friend.  Is that how you sprained your back?” </p><p>Denny sighed. “No, actually not. You see, after dinner, storytelling, marshmallow toasting and singing, we all got ready for bed.”</p><p>“Bed?” Alan asked, once again worried. “Did you and Bill-”</p><p>Denny held up his hand. “Hold your horses! I’m getting to that. As I was saying, just before we were getting ready for bed, Norah decides to pay me a little visit to make sure that I was doing my duty. Or so I thought. Now mind you, at that point in time, I was completely drained. I got this suit out of the used clothing bin, so I could get out of that robot costume. After three hours of community service, I was tired, dirty, and sweaty and my shirt was torn in the back. All I wanted to do was collapse, go to sleep and forget that that whole incredibly bad day had ever happened. But Norah had other plans.”</p><p>Alan’s eyes widened. “You mean that she wanted you to-”</p><p>Denny once again held up his hands impatiently. “Will you just let me finish? It’s not what you think. Now when Norah sees me, she motions for me to come with her. She leads me to the downstairs basement and she points to a blackboard. She puts a piece of chalk in my hand and tells me to write the word ‘UNIMOUNT’ one hundred times consecutively on the board. It sounded simple, but she promised me that any little mistake would be punished and I would have to start all over again from the beginning. So I start writing on the chalkboard. The first nine times, I do okay, but on the tenth time, I made one little error. Norah hit me on the back with a yardstick. She erased the nine correct spellings and made me start all over again. This time around, I got to the thirteenth spelling before I felt the yardstick hit my back once again. She once again erased the twelve correct spellings and made me start all over again. Well, you get the idea. It pretty much went on that way until three in the morning. She finally left me alone. I collapsed on the cot in the basement. My back was killing me. I couldn’t walk another step.</p><p>“Four hours later, I was woken up for breakfast. I found Bill sleeping in the cot next to me. Before you make any accusations, I’ll answer your question before you even ask it. No, we did not have sex together. I asked Bill why he was sleeping next to me. He told me that the judge had asked him to keep an eye on me. So, that’s the whole story, mister.” </p><p>Alan looked concerned. “Oh, my goodness. I never realized-”</p><p>Denny was now angry. “You should be ashamed of yourself for what you were thinking!”</p><p>Alan sighed. “I know. It’s just that-well, you know, you and I have a special relationship.”</p><p>Denny flicked his ash. “If that’s how you really feel about me, then you should trust that I would do nothing to betray our friendship. For example, you wouldn’t mind that I invited Bill to join us for karaoke night on Friday.”</p><p>Alan shook his head. “No, not at all. I didn’t know that Bill could sing.”</p><p>Denny took another sip of his drink. “Actually, I didn’t either. It was the strangest thing, really. Bill and I were singing together a certain song that involved each of us taking a separate part. When I finished my part and Bill started to sing, before he could utter a single note, everybody clapped and cheered. Now why do you imagine that happened?”</p><p>Alan had a theory, but he didn’t want to hurt his best friend’s feelings. Instead he reassured Denny. “Very well, it’s settled.  Bill will join us on Friday night.” </p><p>Denny smiled. “That’s what I like to hear. The three of us on the town on Friday night-The Big, The Bald and The Beautiful.”</p><p>Alan laughed. “You have such a unique way of phrasing things, Denny.” Then he became serious. “Denny, could I ask you a question? If you were really the commanding officer of a spaceship, what would your bridge crew look like?”</p><p>Denny thought for a moment before answering. “Good question.  Let’s see. I think I’ll put Clarice at the Communications panel. She looks so sexy in that short little skirt.”</p><p>Alan did not have the heart to remind Denny that Clarice was really Clarence in drag. “Understandable. Engineering?”</p><p>Denny smiled. “Paul, for sure. Half of his legalese sounds like engine room techno-babble, anyway.”</p><p>Alan nodded. “Makes sense. Operations?”</p><p>Denny puffed his cigar. “Jerry, of course.”</p><p>Alan seemed content. “Medical and Nursing?”</p><p>Denny spoke confidently. “Shirley and Denise. A little girl on girl action while my intimate parts are being examined. Titillating concept.” </p><p>Alan laughed. “I couldn’t agree more.” He paused for a moment and grew serious. “What about #1 and #2?”</p><p>Denny finished his drink. “I knew you were heading in that direction. I should have seen this coming.” </p><p>Alan looked at him intently. “You haven’t answered my question.”</p><p>Denny returned the intense look. “Are you sure that you’re ready for the truth? Are you really able to handle it?”</p><p>Alan took in a deep breath. “Yes, Captain Crane. What would my position be on your little ship?”</p><p>Denny shook his head. “You’re not going to like the answer.”</p><p>Alan grew impatient. “Oh, for Pete’s sake’s Denny! Just tell me straight out, who would be your first officer?”</p><p>Denny put on a serious face. “Very well. Sam Kimmel would be my First Officer and you would be my #2.”</p><p>Alan got up and walked toward the edge of the balcony. He looked at the view of the Boston skyline. “I understand, Denny. You and Sam are very close and have known each other for many years. But I would not be honest if I did not tell you that I feel a little bit hurt.”</p><p>Denny got up and slowly walked over to Alan. “You see, I knew that you would react like this. That’s why I didn’t tell you before. Now before you make any off the wall assumptions, let me explain myself. If you watched the <em>Galaxy Guards </em>series, you would know that it’s the First Officer who goes on all the away missions. The Captain is too valuable. He never leaves the bridge. Let it also be noted that in the course of the series, the cast must have gone through at least three different first officers before the character of Klang was established. The other three got shot, were eaten by aliens, or disintegrated into black dust. I could not live with myself if I put you into any type of danger.</p><p>“Now, consider, on the other hand, the role of the second officer. He’s always on the bridge. He’s always near and indispensable to the captain, as the first officer is on some away mission getting seduced by strange alien women or getting his head blown off. So, your position would be near me, by my side at all times.” </p><p>Alan wiped a tear from his eye. “Denny, that is the most beautiful thing that you’ve ever said to me.” </p><p>Denny put his arm around Alan. “Sleepover?”</p><p>Alan laughed. “Sleepover, it is!” He and Denny refilled their glasses.</p><p>Denny proposed a toast. “Here’s to <em>Galaxy Guards</em>!”</p><p>Alan raised his glass as well. “To <em>Galaxy Guards</em>!”</p><p> </p><p>THE END</p>
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